


Shine

by tarrysmith



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4027096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarrysmith/pseuds/tarrysmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OK…I had to write this sometime.  I HAD to… it’s clawed in my head until I put stylus to tablet. And this time, I’m not even pretending – the OFC is ME! Uh, me about 25 years ago, ehehehe… It’s funny, and silly, and I love it! I hope you will, too!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Luke stood back and eyed his friend up and down. “You’ll do,” he said shortly, his eyes narrowed as he focused on Tom’s footwear. “But, boy, only just. If this were a more formal occasion, you’d not be able to get away with those shoes, Tom. Time to break out a little polish before you wear them again.”

Tom frowned, picking up his foot and peering at the toe of one of the offending shoes, before repeating the action with the other.

“Damn,” he said, annoyed. “This is one of my favorite pairs, too. Oh, well.” He turned and headed down the hall, slipping off the shoes as he went, and Luke followed him.

“Tom?” Luke called questioningly, as Tom opened the door to his bedroom, going to his large walk-in closet, dumping the pair of shoes into a large bin in the corner, before selecting another pair from off of a rack and slipping them on, stooping to tie them.

“There,” he said, turning and grinning at his publicist and friend. “Is this better?”

Luke was standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open, gazing at Tom in stupefaction. “Uh, what just happened?” he asked.

Tom looked at him blankly. “What do you mean? You were right, those shoes were done, so I changed. Isn’t that right?”

Luke moved more fully into the closet, eying the enormous rack of shoes on the wall, before approaching the sizeable bin and looking over the edge. He glanced, dumbfounded at Tom, over his shoulder. “Uh, Tom, just how many pairs of shoes do you own, anyway, and what do you do with these?” he asked, gesturing towards the bin, that was brimming with discarded pairs of shoes.

Tom blinked, a vaguely guilty expression on his face. “I like shoes, all right?” he said defensively. “What does it matter how many pairs I own? I can afford it! And as for that lot…”

“You don’t know, do you?” Luke asked exasperated. He turned back to the rack of shoes, doing a quick tally under his breath. “Well, there’s about a hundred and seventy-five pairs right here!” he said.

Tom wasn’t sure if Luke sounded dismayed, disgusted, amused, or admiring. All of the above, he decided, eying his friend warily. He didn’t dare say anything. He knew that, if he had an addiction to anything, it was probably footwear. But, dammit, they were just so… irresistible. He knew he shouldn’t even go into cobblers’ shops, but each time he told himself, ‘I’ll just look, l can handle it,’ the same thing happened. As soon as he crossed the threshold, and that scent of wax and oil and fine leathers hit him, he was lost. He’d be panting like a gambler at a horse race, imperiously ordering the shop keep about, asking for everything they had in a size twelve. Several hours later, he’d finally leave, thousands of pounds poorer, his purchases in tow if the shop was small; or having given instructions to his home, if the shop were large and delivery the only option. He’d once binged, and when he woke the next day, a large van had been in his drive, and he’d signed for fifty new pairs…

And don’t even get him started on Bespoke shoes… Tom shivered just thinking about it.

“I, uh, I may actually have a small problem when it comes to shoes, all right?” he said now, starting to sound belligerent. “But like I said, I can afford it. And I can quit any time I like!”

“Jeez, Tom, you sound like an alcoholic, or a drug addict!” Luke said, dismay winning out over all the other emotions running through his mind. “And that still doesn’t tell me about these.” He waved his hand at the bin in the corner.

“Oh, those,” Tom said, not quite able to look his friend in the eye. “Uh, eventually, when it gets too full, I’ll call someone and have them hauled away. But it’s just so hard to part with them…”

“Part with them?” Luke said, his voice raising incredulously. “You mean, you simply wear them until they need a polish and then discard them?” His eyebrows disappeared under his hair as they climbed his forehead.

“Well, yes,” Tom said, looking uncertain. “You yourself pointed out that they’re no longer wearable.”

“But…, but Tom…” Luke sputtered. “That’s what shoe polish is for!”

Tom scowled. “I had enough of polishing shoes when I was at school growing up,” he growled. “I promised myself that when I got famous, I’d never do it again!”

“Well, then, for god’s sake, hire a boot black!” Luke snapped. “Like you’ve already pointed out, you can afford it!” Turning on his heel, Luke stalked out of the closet and down the hall, and Tom, looking at his watch, scrambled to follow.

Tom closed his eyes, rubbing them tiredly as he looked away from his computer screen. He’d been on set all day, and he was exhausted, but Luke’s words had been nagging him for days, and he’d finally decided that his friend was right: it was time he hired someone to come take care of all of his shoes for him. He wasn’t sure why he’d never thought of it before. Well, all right, that wasn’t quite true. The truth of it was, somewhere in the back of his mind, it felt that if he acknowledged that he didn’t actually have to discard his shoes, then he wouldn’t need that as an excuse to buy new ones. But, you know what, dammit? He was an adult, he was wealthy, he was… hell, why not admit it? He was _famous_ , by god. He didn’t need an excuse! If he wanted to own a million pairs of shoes, so be it! A billion! He opened his eyes and returned to the computer.

Hmmm, how hard could it be to find a boot black that made house calls? Because the simple fact was, he had entirely too many shoes to actually take them somewhere. He sighed. Maybe he’d have to actually post a ‘help wanted’ ad…

He pondered for a moment, biting his lip, then typed away. A fine ad, he thought, a few minutes later, as he read over what he’d composed:

Wanted: boot black. Expect this job to take several

weeks to several months. Compensation to be based

on experience and quality of work. Please inquire by

responding to this ad.’

There. He powered down his computer, and went to prepare for bed.

The next morning, he sighed as he wearily powered up his laptop. His conversation with Luke continued to rankle. He would almost say that he felt – haunted, he guessed was the correct word. Which was patently silly. Why should he feel so bad about a decision so trivial as to not polish his shoes? Hmmm, he thought, as he scrolled through his emails. Advertisement. Delete. Invitation. Skip. Another advert. Delete. Wait, what was this?

‘T.J. Smith, Mobile Shoe Shine. I make house calls. 5£ per pair of men’s shoes, 3£ per pair for ladies’. Hourly rate negotiable. Ten years in the business, references available.’

And that was it. Only one reply to his ad. Well, he thought as he typed a quick response, let’s just see what Mr. T.J. Smith would have to say for himself.

Two days later, Tom let himself into his house. He’d been meeting with a producer and a director at the Donmar; they were considering doing a production of The Taming Of The Shrew, and were wondering if he would entertain the idea of playing Petruchio. Truth be told, he’d day-dreamed of just such a thing for years! What could be better than to play the smart, funny, tongue-in-cheek wastrel, his pithy innuendo so joyful on Tom’s lips! He couldn’t wait! He was so excited that he was almost late for his appointment with Mr. T.J. Smith to discuss his shoe collection. But as he pushed open his front door, he glanced around, not seeing any man loitering about, he determined that Mr. Smith must be late. Tom frowned; punctuality was something he valued!

He was just getting ready to close the door, his irritation showing on his face, when a rather forceful young woman, seemingly equally irritated as himself, bustled over from the lamppost she’d been leaning against.

“Mr. Hiddleston?” she inquired, her brows lowered and mouth pursed. “Mr. Tom Hiddleston?”

“Yes?” he responded politely, reigning in his disgruntlement. “I’m Tom Hiddleston.” He began to feel through his pockets for a sharpie; this had happened before, of course. Sometimes his fans discovered that he lived here. He always strove to treat them all with respect, and even though this petite young woman was quite glaring at him, he was resolved to be pleasant to her.

“You’re late,” she said shortly. “I’ve been waiting over a quarter of an hour. This doesn’t bode well for our future relationship, if you can’t even be on time for our initial meeting. I may just be a shoe shine, but my time is as valuable to me as yours undoubtedly is to you.”

Tom was struck dumb for a moment, totally taken aback, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so discombobulated by a female. He realized with some surprise that she was American, and he wondered idly what had brought and kept an American shoe shine girl to London.

“I beg your pardon?” he said, recognizing that he sounded rather stupid.

“I’m T.J.,” she said, with some exasperation. “Your shoeshine. May I come inside, and maybe see the shoes? You indicated that the job was sizable. Just how many pairs do you have?” She glanced pointedly at her watch, and her mouth turned down. “I probably have time to do them all, but if you have more than two or three pairs, I’m going to have to charge you an extra pound apiece. And if you have something more exotic than the standard colors, I’ll have to come back, as I’ve only brought black, brown, tan, white, and oxblood with me today.”

She paused, looking closely at him. Good heavens, his face was ruddy! Wait, was he… blushing? “Mr. Hiddleston?” she asked curiously.

“Oh, please, call me Tom,” he said, with some relief. “And, er, well, I, uh, I guess you’d better come inside.” He opened the door and motioned for her to enter ahead of him. “I’m sorry I was late. I was downtown, at the Donmar, you know. They want me to play Petruchio in The Taming Of The Shrew.”

“I love The Taming Of The Shrew!” she exclaimed. “Is the Donmar a theater, then? And you must be an actor?”

“Erm, yes,” he stammered. “The Donmar is a theater, and um, yes, I am an actor.” He stopped, looking at her with an odd expression on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said after a minute. “You, um, you don’t recognize me?”

T.J. bit her lip. “Am I supposed to?” she asked apologetically.

Tom scraped his top teeth over his lower lip and smirked at her. “No, not at all,” he said, chuckling. “Not if you don’t want to. It’s just that, well, most people do.”

“Oh,” she said blankly. “I’m sorry then. Are you terribly famous? Have you been in something I’ve seen? Although, I have to tell you, it’s been several years since I’ve seen any live theater.”

Tom laughed loudly. “You’re delightful!” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You’re hired! I don’t care if you polish the shoes with petroleum jelly. Your sense of humor alone will be worth it!”

T.J. clicked her tongue. “I haven’t said I’ll take the job,” she said, sounding put out. “I’m not sure I can work for you, Mr. Hiddleston. First, you were late, which I’m afraid is a pet peeve of mine, and now you’re laughing at me because I’m not as cultured as you are, and casting aspersions on my work ethic!”

Tom frowned. “No, you misunderstand me, T.J.,” he said placatingly. “It’s just… I don’t just do live theater. I mean, I started in live theater, of course, but I’ve also actually done quite a bit of television, and some reasonably popular films. I’m, well, I am rather famous, and you don’t seem to recognize me, or know who I am, and quite frankly it’s all very refreshing!”

“Oh,” T.J. said, blinking. “I guess that’s OK, then. Um, what films, exactly?”

“Well,” Tom said, struggling to sound casual, “the Marvel films, Thor, and The Avengers, and Thor: The Dark World.”

T.J. shook her head. “Nope, I’ve not seen any of those,” she said regretfully. “Sorry. I have friends who have. My best friend Maddy went on and on about the fellow who played Thor.” She paused, looking at him doubtfully. “You’re not him, are you? The way she described him, I would have expected someone, well, um, bigger…”

Tom laughed again. “Oh, dear, you are such a breath of fresh air! My mum would love you! She would say that you’re just what I need to knock down my ego! No, I’m not Thor. I actually play his unhappy, misunderstood, adopted younger brother, Loki.”

And she smiled. “Ah, my other best friend, Olivia, loves you,” she said.

Tom smiled, embarrassed. “So, the job?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

T.J. felt her breath catch. Wait a minute, what was that? How did he do that? All he did was give her a friendly look, his brows raised questioningly in mild interest, and yet, she felt it deep in her core, as if he’d touched her intimately. Her first instinct was to run, because she wasn’t looking for anything like this, and she didn’t figure he was, either.

And yet, she needed this job. Her rent was due, and she hadn’t had a position in way too long. His initial ad had said that the job could take months (which she didn’t quite believe), and his response to her answering email had indicated that he was interested in hiring someone on a more or less permanent basis, and she wondered, not for the first time, just how many pairs of shoes he owned? As many as a dozen? Or maybe it was just that, as a famous actor, making so many appearances, or something, that he was hard on his shoes…?

She realized that she’d been just standing there staring at him, for longer than was polite. “Yes, um, the job,” she said. “Tell me about it.”

Tom looked vaguely embarrassed, and… really? Was he actually _blushing_? Again? “Um, I’m afraid I have, well, I maybe have a small shoe problem…” he said.

“Shoe problem?” T.J. asked, brows raised.

“It’s two-fold, really,” Tom said, turning and walking down the hall. He stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. He bit his lip “Um, come, I’ll show you.”

T.J. scurried to follow. “Two-fold, you were saying?” she murmured.

“Oh, yes, well…” Tom said, truly sounding unbearably embarrassed. “Um, for one thing, I hate polishing shoes. Hate it, with a passion. Sorry,” he said, looking back at her, as she made a disgusted sound in her throat. “Didn’t mean to insult your noble profession, I just had enough of it when I was at Eton. My parents parked me there when they were divorcing. I didn’t really want to go, and I’m afraid the discipline was difficult for me at the time.”

He had stopped and turned to face her once more, but he was contemplative, and she could tell that he wasn’t really seeing her. He shook himself, and visibly pulled himself back to the moment. He gave her a self-mocking little half-smile. “Anyway, long story short, I promised myself that when I got famous, I’d never polish another shoe ever again! Well, it’s been over five years…”

T.J. gasped. “You haven’t polished a shoe in over five years?”

Tom chuckled; she sounded scandalized. “No,” he said, sounding very pleased with himself. “I haven’t!”

“But, surely…” she sounded unbelievably confused. “But then, what do you do? With your shoes?”

“I’m afraid… well, I just buy new ones,” he said, looking at her sheepishly. “And that’s the second part of the problem…”

He turned and started back down the hall, and T.J. followed automatically. He paused at a door, looking back at her, giving her a look that almost seemed to be… trepidation? He swallowed visibly and opened the door, stepping into the room beyond.

It was obviously his bedroom: a well-appointed, pleasantly masculine chamber, decorated in hues of blue and grey, with modest furnishings and an enormous, old-fashioned-looking four-poster bed by the window. He didn’t pause, simply crossed the room to another closed door and flung it open. She could see that it was a spacious walk-in closet, and she followed him inside it.

And froze.

Rack upon rack upon rack. Dozens, no hundreds, no _thousands_ … How many pairs of shoes did this man own?!!

Tom looked rather like a small boy, not able to meet her eye, as he scuffed a toe against the carpet (which made T.J. wince), and bit his lip. Finally, he looked up at her. “I like shoes, all right?” he said defiantly.

T.J. genuinely had trouble catching her breath as she turned and gazed at the racks upon racks of (honestly, quite exquisitely beautiful) shoes.

And then she spotted the bin in the corner.

“Oh, my,” she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

T.J. paused for a moment, pushing out her lower lip and blowing her hair off her forehead. She brushed the back of her hand across her face, leaving a smear of oxblood shoe polish on her cheek in its wake. It had been three weeks, and she still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of Tom’s discarded shoe bin. Tom was paying her 25£ an hour for eight hours a day, a _very_ generous salary for a shoe shine, but Tom assured her that she was worth it. It wasn’t as if the work was hard, although… the work was hard! Actually, physically, hard! T.J. flexed her hands, feeling the muscles creak in protest. She then stretched out her arms, wincing as her right biceps spasmed and cramped.

Oh well, it was a living. T.J. hadn’t been so flush in recent memory. And, oh, this eccentric man had exquisite, beautiful shoes! It was a joy to work on them, and T.J. loved her work! She loved shoes anyway, and grudgingly admitted that she recognized a kindred spirit in this strange man who had employed her. Once she got over her dismay at the sheer vastness of the task before her, she had dived in with relish!

Every day, she would arrive at Tom’s house, promptly at eight o’clock in the morning, and begin. She always spent the first part of the day working with black, as the majority of her employer’s shoes were of that color. Then to give herself variety, she would spend an hour or two working with brown, or tan, or, like today, oxblood, before morning break.

Which reminded her: it was about that time. She put the finishing touches on the left of the pair of gorgeous brogues she was working on, setting it aside to soak and dry, picking up the right one. Reaching for the buffing brush, she took a deep breath and began swinging.

‘You have to put your whole body into it!’ she heard the voice of her father in her ear. ‘Get into a rhythm. Don’t just dab at it; you’ve got to _swing!_ ’

And indeed, her whole body rocked from side to side as she buffed the right brogue into a deep shine. She kept at it, turning the shoe until the entire thing glowed. Finally satisfied, she set the right brogue down, and repeated her actions with the left, until she was sure she had restored the pair. Bracing herself, she rose to her feet, bending over and picking up the shoes, careful to only touch the insides, so as not to leave fingerprints; she turned and headed across the hall to Tom’s bedroom, going straight to his closet and placing the pair of brogues on one of the new racks Tom had had to have installed. She stepped back, admiring the way the shoes gleamed, before turning and making her way to the kitchen.

The first couple of days that she’d worked for Tom, they had hashed out a routine that worked for both of them. Tom knew that he wasn’t going to be able to keep _all_ of the shoes – he simply didn’t have room for them all! So, every night, he would go through the discarded shoe bin and pick out a couple of dozen pairs or so that he couldn’t bear to part with, and those would become T.J.’s main focus for the next day. After she had finished with those, she would move onto other pairs, pausing for frequent small breaks, two large breaks, and of course, an hour for lunch. She generally was able to finish with fifty pairs, a feat which had thoroughly impressed Tom the first time he’d seen it.

T.J. had set up shop in Tom’s small second bedroom, which was mostly devoid of furniture, and after the first several days, she had felt comfortable enough to begin leaving her supplies there, which was a lot easier than carting them to and fro to her own small flat every day. For his own part, after the first week, Tom trusted her enough to have had made a spare key to the house, and T.J. still felt a surge of pride over the fact. Tom no longer stayed and hovered over her, and in fact, he usually wasn’t even home as T.J. went about her work. The small room was beginning to fill up with shoes, as T.J. was also storing the pairs destined for donation to charity there as well, but even Tom had had to admit that there was no conceivable way he could keep them all, although when they’d had that conversation, T.J. had struggled to maintain a straight face as she watched the dismay and regret on Tom’s. She could tell that he had rescued several pairs from donation, but she felt oddly proud of him for being more or less realistic about it.

Now, she washed out the glass from which she’d just gulped water, then turned and went back to the small room. It was time to move on to something more exotic; patent leather today. The patent was a little harder, a little more work, but T.J. was a professional, and she knew what to do. Soon, she was totally immersed in the work, and several hours went by before she paused to catch her breath.

Wow, it was much later than she’d thought. Time to break for lunch. She set aside her rags and pot of polish, and made her way once more to the small kitchen. Taking her sack lunch out of the refrigerator, she washed her hands, then plopped down at the table, and unpacked her sandwich and apple, and began to eat. She enjoyed her food, and the rest, but was just getting ready to get back to work, when she heard the front door slam, and Tom came rushing into the room.

“Oh, good,” he said, looking pleased and strangely relieved. “You’re still here! I need to ask a tremendous favor of you!”

T.J. stopped in mid-chew and tried not to stare. It was true that when she had started working for him, she did not know who he was, and had never seen any of his performances.

That was no longer the case. As soon as she had mentioned to Maddy and Olivia who it was that she was working for, they had insisted on plopping her down in front of the telly and forcing her to binge watch everything he had ever done. She had enjoyed Tom in Thor, but was totally distracted by the blond giant from Australia who was playing the title role. She thought Tom was scary in The Avengers, and that he actually looked rather ill.

No, it wasn’t until they watched Thor: The Dark World that she was completely and totally captivated by him. She watched, mesmerized, as he tore her heart from her chest and systematically ripped it into tiny shreds. Over the next few days, she had tortured herself with You Tube videos, ‘Return to Cranford’, ‘Unrelated’, ‘Archipelago’, even ‘The Pirate Fairy’! When she watched ‘Walander’ on Netflix, and somehow managed to find bootleg copies of ‘Suburban Shootout’, ‘Only Lovers Let Alive’, and ‘Coriolanus’, she was irretrievably lost. Now, she had difficulty meeting his eyes. Her breath got tight and her heart raced every time she was in the same room with him. Which mercifully wasn’t very often, as he was off working on some project or other, and after the first couple of days, he had simply left her to it, and she rarely saw him.

But, here he stood in front of her in his small kitchen, looking excited and agitated, his hair standing on end (he had a nervous habit of raking his hand through it, she knew), and biting his lower lip. He shot her a pleading look. “Tell me that you’re not busy tonight,” he said, sounding a little desperate.

T.J. swallowed. Just being in the same room with him was… difficult. He was so freaking gorgeous, and she’d come to realize that he was a _nice_ guy, too. She _wanted_ him, and she knew that she was not his type, and that, as kind and good as he was, he would never look at her in a million years.

She was nine years his junior, which was a bit much, in her opinion, but she was powerless against his charm. She wanted him anyway. At five foot five, she was taller than the women he usually dated. Her long hair, worn with straight bangs, was thick and lush, wavy, honey brown with golden highlights; much lighter than the brunette locks his girlfriends always sported.

“T.J.?” His voice woke her from her reverie, and she realized that she was still sitting and staring at him, and that he was waiting for an answer. She bit her lip, chewing on the inside nervously.

“A favor?” she cringed, as her voice came out as a squeak.

“Well,” he said, sounding breathless, “only if you aren’t busy tonight. Please don’t be busy tonight.” The last part was said mostly to himself.

“Uh, no, I’m not busy tonight,” she said warily. “But Tom, I’m exhausted. I was going to finish up the afternoon and then collapse in the tub.”

Puppy eyes. He was hitting her with the fricking puppy eyes. Something inside her melted.

“I need you to attend a party with me tonight,” he said pleadingly.

T.J. was silent for most of a minute, simply staring at him, dumbfounded. Finally, her mouth dropped open, and she scrambled to back away from him. “Oh no, oh no,” she said, horrified. “Look at me! How can I possibly attend some fancy party with you?”

Tom bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. “Please, T.J., I’m desperate,” he said, beginning to pace. “I _have_ to attend tonight, I simply don’t have a choice, but there is absolutely no way I can go to this thing alone, and my date has just backed out on me. You’re the only girl I know who could possibly pull it off on such short notice.”

T.J. put her hands on her hips, jutting her chin at him. “Thanks, I think,” she said sarcastically, “but what makes you think I can pull it off?” She held up her hands, palms towards him. “Have you even taken a good look at me?”

“You look fine…?” Tom said, unsure, raising his eyes to hers.

Oh, those eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. T. J.’s stomach clenched, but she forced herself to speak. “Tom, I’m a shoe shine. I probably have shoe polish on my face. I _know_ I have polish on my hands,” she said, exasperated, turning her palms in towards herself and eying them with amused resignation. “This doesn’t come off. Ever.”

Tom stood looking at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “So?” he asked, cocking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with working for a living, T.J.”

T.J.’s mouth puckered, and her heart melted a little more. Oh, this man! “Well,” she said quietly. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Now that, we can fix,” Tom said, his confidence restored now that he was on more familiar territory. “Why don’t you clean up a little, and then, let’s go shopping!”

T.J. looking at him through narrowed eyes. “What makes you think I can afford anything that you’d want to be seen with me in?” she said sarcastically. “While my boss is generous,” Tom smirked at that, “my budget still won’t run to designer fashions.”

Tom folded his arms across his chest, leaning his hip against the counter, his stance deceptively relaxed. “ _I’m_ taking you shopping,” he said stubbornly.

“What kind of a girl do you think I am?” T.J. said flatly. “I am NOT letting you buy clothes for me, like some sort of kept woman.”

Tom was silent, his mouth open in shock, but after a minute he burst out laughing. “Oh, T.J., you are such a delight. Think of it as a bonus.” He strode to her and grasped one of her small hands in one of his large ones, pulling her after him as he walked from the kitchen. He led her to the bathroom that was adjacent to her ‘office.’

“Take a shower,” he said. “That’s an order. And then, I’m taking you shopping. I have to attend this bloody party, at my fucking ex’s house, and I refuse to face her alone. I am going to buy you whatever you need to show you off as the glamorous woman that I know you are. Now get a move on!”

And with that, he shoved her into the bathroom and shut the door with alacrity.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

T.J. looked around herself, trying, probably unsuccessfully, she admitted ruefully to herself, to appear bored and sophisticated. The truth of the matter was that she felt as if she were in a bright dream; she felt like a princess, or rather, like Cinderella. She didn’t belong here, in this borrowed finery, and she wondered, yet again, what, or more to the point, she guessed, who, could have a man as wonderful, as talented, as handsome, as confident, as _amazing_ as Tom was, so desperate that he would try to make the sow’s ear that was T.J. Smith into a silk purse.

Because the man had to be truly desperate. He had taken charge of her, ordering her into the shower, and then whisking her away for an afternoon of shopping and pampering. The experience had been surreal. T.J. wasn’t the sort of girl who would ever have the opportunity to even be in the same room as the couture fashions that she had tried on, let alone actually get to wear one. Yet, here she was, teetering precariously in Louboutin peep-toe pumps, a gorgeous designer frock, the skirt scandalously short and flirty, silk stockings so sheer that she was sure they would run if you breathed on them. Her hair had been coaxed into a do that appeared so elegantly casual, and her face expertly made up, while another technician had bleached her hands within an inch of their lives, dipped them in paraffin, and applied nails that she knew would last less than sixty seconds once she returned to her real job.

Through it all, Tom had hovered in the background, smiling, nodding, and looking more and more pleased and relieved, until finally, she’d stood before him, looking as she did now, and if he had won the Megabucks lottery back home, he couldn’t possibly have looked more elated than he did right then.

“T.J., you’re stunning,” he’d said, sounding surprised and a little breathless. “Thank you so much for doing this. You have absolutely no idea how much it means to me!”

She’d waited in his living room while he’d showered and dressed, and when he’d finally come down the stairs, his hair damp from the shower, casually tousled, face lightly scruffy, dressed in an elegant black suit, crisp white dress shirt, gold cufflinks, navy silk tie, and – of course – gleaming black dress shoes, well, suffice it to say that she hadn’t really been able to catch her breath yet! He was beautiful, and when he’d held out his arm for her to take, she’d genuinely thought she might swoon. She’d forced herself to not bite the lip that had the 50 £-a-tube lipstick applied to it, slid her designer-nail-tipped fingers through the crook of his elbow, and accompanied him through the garage and into his waiting Jaguar.

“I promise, I’ll try to stay with you, but, regardless, I won’t leave you alone for too long,” Tom murmured near her ear, as he snagged two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, handing one to her and sipping from the other. He held one hand at the small of her back, and once again, T.J. wondered when she was going to wake up and find herself in her bed in her tiny flat. She took another deep breath, and tried to look casual as she glanced around.

The room was filled with celebrities, some T.J. recognized, many that she did not. Over there was Benedict Cumberbatch, his beautiful new wife at his side. There was Hayley Atwell, her gown a vision. Ben Whishaw was over there, Nathan Fillion there, and T.J. knew that she should recognize that man over there, but she just couldn’t put a name with the face, she was in such awe to even be in the same room with these people.

Suddenly, she felt Tom stiffen beside her, and she followed his gaze over to where a buxom brunette woman, gorgeous in a barely-there gown, full, pouting, bright red lips parted in a beaming smile, was making her way towards them. She moved like a sleek jungle cat, almost as if she were stalking something. ‘Or someone,’ T.J. thought, as the woman closed in on them. This then, was Tom’s ex, and as she got closer to them, Tom became more and more tense at T.J.’s side, until the woman stood in front of them, looking up at Tom with a predatory smile. She totally ignored T.J., and focused solely on Tom.

“Tom,” she purred, in a low voice that sounded like whiskey and sex, “so nice to see you. I’m glad you could come.”

Tom covered it well, but T.J., with her arm through his, could feel how tense the poor man was. Instantly, she felt protective of him. He had been nothing but kind to her, and she could tell that this aggressive woman had hurt him in the past.

“Oh, I’m afraid I insisted,” she said, before she could think better of it. “Tom wasn’t sure that this was the sort of thing I would enjoy, but I didn’t want to be selfish.” She gave the older woman a smug smile. “Tom, introduce us.”

She could feel Tom’s surprise, and she was worried for a split second that she had gone too far, but then Tom relaxed, glancing at her – gratefully? – before turning back to the older woman. “Kat, this is my friend T.J.. T.J., this is Kat Dennings, our hostess.”

Kat looked at T.J. for a second or two, dismissing her as unimportant almost instantly. She reached out and put her hand on Tom’s arm, and tried to pull him away. T.J. felt him stiffen again, and he clutched at her the way a drowning man clutches at a rescuer. And that was pretty much how T.J. was feeling: as if she were his rescuer. The older woman’s aggressive stance woke T.J.’s Mama Bear instincts, and she went fully into protective mode. She lifted her chin subtly. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said.

There was an awkward moment when T.J. thought that Kat was actually going to attempt to forcibly wrest Tom away from her, but Kat narrowed her eyes and backed away slightly, finally looking at T.J. assessingly. T.J. sensed that she had won this battle, but that perhaps the war was just beginning.

“Hmmph,” Kat snorted dismissively. “I must go mingle. It’s good to see you, Tom,” she said, and with a parting, narrowed look, she stalked off.

After a moment, T.J. felt Tom shaking. It took her just a few seconds to realize that he was chuckling softly. “Thank you, T.J.” he said, sounding genuinely grateful. “That was skillfully done. I didn’t know that you were so formidable, and I’m afraid you’ve made an enemy.”

“She hurt you,” T.J. said simply. “I don’t think I like her very much. I suppose she’s famous, but so far, I’m not impressed.”

Tom choked, recovered, then gave her a crooked little smile. “I’m very glad you’re on my side,” he said gently, looking at her with the puppy eyes.

T.J. felt her stomach drop, and she swallowed hard, pulling herself together. “Do you have any actual friends here?” she asked, looking around.

Tom laughed and flashed her his signature grin. “Yes, I do!” he said happily. “Come, I want you to meet them.”

While she hadn’t liked Kat Dennings, T.J. very much liked Benedict Cumberbatch. He and Tom had an easy, affectionate camaraderie that came from knowing each other over a period of many years. Ben was even gracious to T.J., a fact that she appreciated greatly, because, as the evening wore on, T.J. knew with increasing certainty, that Tom lived in a world to which she didn’t belong. She was grateful for the opportunity to attend this party, and hob nob with the beautiful people, but she was under no illusions: she didn’t fit in, and she didn’t belong.

Tom was true to his word, and stuck to her like glue the entire night, with the small exception of a few minutes when they separated to use the washroom. And of course, it was during this small time apart that their hostess chose to approach T.J.

“You’re with Tom tonight, right?” Kat asked T.J., eying her speculatively.

“Yes, I am,” T.J. said calmly. “Thank you for having us. It’s truly a grand party.”

“You don’t really think you can keep him, do you?” Kat sneered. “A little nobody like you? Who are you, even, anyway? How does Tom know you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” T.J. answered, “But I don’t ‘have’ Tom to keep; we’re just friends. I’ve been doing some work for him, and he’s been very kind to me. But he did ask me to accompany him tonight, and I’ve had a wonderful time. Thanks again.”

“He’s only asked you to make me jealous,” Kat said smugly. “We used to go out, you know. I didn’t mean to break his heart, but you know how it is.” The older woman shrugged. “Anyway, he’s trying to get me back, and I might just let him.”

Considering Tom’s reaction to her earlier, T.J. thought it very unlikely that Tom wanted to get back together with this woman, but she kept her mouth shut, as she had spotted him returning to her over Kat’s shoulder. “That’s between you and Tom,” she murmured, as Tom reached her side, slipping an arm around her shoulders and placing a soft kiss into the hair at her temple. T.J. steeled herself to not react, knowing that it was just for show, but her inclination was to swoon. Tom Hiddleston had his arm around her and he had just kissed her! She schooled her features into a gently affectionate expression, and gave him a soft smile.

“It’s late,” he murmured. “Are you ready to go, T.J.? “

“I am,” she said, nodding. She extended her hand towards Kat, who was still standing there, staring at T.J. and Tom in unbelief. “Again, it was very nice to meet you, Miss Dennings,” T.J. said. “Thank you again for having me.”

Without letting go of T.J., Tom put one hand on Kat’s shoulder and bent forward, pressing his cheek to hers. “Yes, thank you, Kat,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

He kept his hand at T.J.’s back all the way until they got outside and to his car, when he held the door and helped her get in. As he started the car, he turned to look into her eyes.

“You are an amazing woman, T.J. Smith,” he said quietly. “I’ll bet people underestimate you all the time. I am truly in awe at your quiet strength. Thank you for attending this party with me. I was extremely grateful to have you by my side tonight.”

“Thank you for asking me,” T.J. said warmly. “I had a great time meeting all those celebrities. Especially Ben!”

Something in her tone disturbed Tom, and he turned and looked at her sharply, before returning his eyes back to the road. “Yes, well he’s married now,” Tom said shortly. “So don’t be getting any ideas.”

T.J. chuckled. “I’m not getting any ideas, Tom. I know he’s married,” she said, amusement lacing her voice.

“Good,” Tom practically growled. “He likes you, by the way,” he added grudgingly.

“Good,” T.J. said simply. “I like him, too.”

The rest of the drive to T.J.’s flat was accomplished in relative silence. Tom parked his Jaguar outside her building, and then turned in his seat, peering at her through the dark. He took a deep breath.

“I really had a great time tonight,” he said, sounding surprised. “A lot better than I thought I’d have. Thank you, T. J., for going with me.”

T.J. gave him a little half-smile. “No, Tom, thank you,” she said. “For taking me to the party, and for the dress, and the shoes, and the make-over… Just, for all of it, thank you.”

Tom didn’t even know he was going to do it, until he felt his lips touch hers. It was sweet; and then she sighed, her lips parting, and suddenly, Tom was hungry for her. He felt his cock hardening in his trousers as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swirling against hers as she kissed him back. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her as close as he could within the confines of the car, the gearshift between them. He cupped her face in his hand, tipping her head just so, and a low moan escaped his throat as she responded.

When the kiss broke as they came up for air, Tom would have kissed her again, but T.J. tightened her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his. “No,” she said softly.

“No?” Tom asked, surprised and dismayed. He pulled away, gazing at her with puppy eyes, his face full of longing.

T.J. shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said wistfully. “I want to, but the thing is… You can have any girl you want, including me, but to you, this would just be another fling. You probably do this all the time, but I don’t. Not ever. To you, this wouldn’t mean anything. But, I’m very much afraid that to me, it would mean _everything_. Thank you for tonight, for this perfect fairy tale. I’ll never forget it, but I don’t belong in your world, Tom; it’s time for me to return to my own.”

Tom wanted to say something, but before he could get his thoughts together, she had pressed her lips to his cheek, and then she was out of the car, running up the steps, and through the door of her building.

Tom sat in his Jaguar for a moment, dazed. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. [Will you be over in the morning?] he texted to her.

[Yes, of course!] she responded. [There are still shoes to polish!]

[Good.] he replied.

As he drove away from her flat on his way back home, he smiled gently to himself. “You’re wrong about me,” he whispered. “And I’m going to prove it to you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

T.J.: [Of course, tomorrow’s Saturday, but I’ll be in on Monday morning. :)]

Tom: [Oh, of course!]

T.J. was glad for the buffer of the two days, and Monday morning she arrived on time at Tom’s house, letting herself in with just a touch of trepidation.

“Tom?” she called out hesitantly, then she relaxed as there was no answer. ‘Good,’ she thought to herself. Tom wasn’t home, and it was business as usual. She first went to the kitchen, stashing her lunch in the fridge, then she climbed the stairs and made her way to her ‘office,’ Tom’s small second bedroom.

There were only six pairs of “keeper” shoes from the bin today, and Tom had arranged them neatly next to T.J’s workspace. She was surveying them briefly, mentally calculating what polishes she would need, and how many rags, when she noticed that tucked into the hollow of one of the shoes was a small vase filled with wildflowers. They were obviously hand-picked, and clearly meant for her, and her heart skipped a beat as a heartfelt “Ohhh,” escaped her lips. There was a folded note, with her name written on the front, propped upon the toe of the shoe, and T.J. reached for it with slightly trembling fingers.

“Dear T.J.” the note read. “I saw these on my morning run and they made me think of you. I hope you have a great day today. All my best, Tom.”

Sighing, T.J. tucked the note into her purse and arranged the vase with the flowers on the window sill where it would be in her line of sight. The thoughtfulness of the gesture had her reeling, and as the day progressed, she found herself glancing more and more frequently over towards the window, where the small vase with the wildflowers sat on the sill.

She made great progress on Tom’s shoes that day, thinking to herself that she believed she could see the end in sight. The bin was emptying out, and while she was proud of her accomplishment, a part of her was melancholy at the thought of no longer being required to spend all day at Tom’s house. She knew he wanted to keep her on, in a part-time capacity, to see to his ongoing shoeshine needs, but that situation would not require her services anywhere near the amount of time she was currently putting in. She realized with dismay that her unhappiness at the job being completed had little to do with the job itself, and even less with her desire for a paycheck. No, her sadness had almost everything to do with her feelings for Tom, and it was on this dangerous train of thought that she broke for lunch.

Whilst she ate, she kept up a mantra of self-talk. She could not afford to fall for a man like Tom. What would be the future in it? It was OK to work for him, maybe even to be friends with him, but anything more would simply spell disaster for her. She was not the sort of girl who could have a one night stand or even a short fling, and expect to come out unscathed and heart-whole. No, such a thing would destroy her, and it was a good thing that this job was almost over. It was! She had saved almost all of the substantial sum that she had earned, and even if she was unlikely to find another plum position like this one, she should be financially set for quite a while. Thus resolved, and feeling better than she had before she’d broken for lunch, she made her way back upstairs to resume her work. As always, she became lost in the mechanics of her job, enjoying the scent and feel of working with the exquisite shoes, her mind tuning out, and the time sped by.

She was surprised to hear the front door open and close about an hour prior to what was typically the end of her work day. Tom, then, was home, and she clenched her jaw and steeled herself against the excitement she felt at the thought of seeing him again. Once more, she glanced towards the vase of wildflowers sitting on the window sill. Damn the man, anyway!

She continued working, the anticipation tying her stomach in knots, and after about ten minutes, she heard his step on the stairs. She thought that he would go to his room first, to check on the progress she had made that day, so she was unprepared when he came straight to the room that she had claimed as her workspace, his eyes lighting up when he saw her, a huge smile taking over his entire face, joy radiating from his whole body. He was bearing a tray in his hands on which were two cups, a kettle, a small cream pitcher and sugar bowl, and a plate of cookies.

“I made tea,” he said happily, looking around for a place to set the tray. His face fell when he noticed the vexed expression on her face. “You do drink tea, don’t you? I’ve realized that I don’t really know very much about you, T.J. I need for that to change.”

“Tom,” T.J. began. What was he trying to do? Completely wreck her peace of mind? “This isn’t a good idea…”

Tom carefully bent over and set the tray on the floor, then stood back up and put his hands on his hips. “It’s just tea,” he said, clearly exasperated. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

T.J. sat back on her heels, laughing in spite of herself. “Fair enough,” she said, smiling up at him. “Very well, yes. Since I have been in this crazy, backwards-driving country, I have learned to appreciate a good cup of tea.”

“Excellent!” said Tom brightly, pouring from the kettle into the two cups on the tray. “Because I myself make a very fine cup of tea. How do you take it?”

“Just a tiny bit of sugar, please,” T.J. said, watching him as he prepared the cup of tea for her, then taking the cup from him and blowing into it gently. She took a small sip and grinned. “Oh indeed, sir, you do. This is a very fine brew!” She sipped it gratefully. “Thank you. This really does hit the spot.”

They sat on the floor in companionable silence, drinking their tea and munching on cookies. “I baked these, too,” Tom said proudly, holding up a cookie. “Over the weekend. I am quite a catch, you know, as I’m quite domesticated _and_ multi-talented.”

T.J. shot him a look. “Oh, I’m sure you are,” she said quietly, her mood somber once again. She hesitated for a moment, trying to put her thoughts into words. “That’s not the problem.”

Tom watched her with puppy eyes. “It’s just tea,” he said again, his voice full of sincerity. “I want to be friends, T.J. I’d like to spend a little time getting to know you. You’re not what you appear to be, and I… well, I’m intrigued.”

T.J. just looked at him. To be honest, she didn’t know what she could say that wouldn’t make her appear totally rude and thoroughly ungracious. She finally settled for saying, “Very well, Tom, but I’m not finished work for the day.”

Tom chuckled, grinning at her. “That’s fine,” he said, sweeping his hand towards the last couple of pairs of shoes she had yet to finish. “By all means, carry on. There isn’t any reason we can’t chat whilst you work, is there?”

“No, I suppose not,” T.J. admitted a little grudgingly. “As long as you don’t exactly expect to have my undivided attention. “

“I can make that work,” Tom said contentedly.

Monday set the precedent for the rest of that week. T.J. would arrive at Tom’s house in the morning for work, to find that Tom was not home, but that he had left her a small gift in amongst the shoes, as well as a handwritten note. She would perform her shoeshine duties as always, and then, about an hour before the end of her work day, Tom would get home and bring her tea, joining her in a cup as they chatted until she had finished for the day. Their conversations ran the gamut, from their families to politics, social issues to fashions, what was popular at the cinema to friends, favorite colors, and ideal meals. T.J. learned more about Tom than she actually knew about anyone else in England, and she knew that she was falling for him, but she felt powerless to resist.

Of course, she grew to look forward to it with more and more anticipation each day. And by the end of the week, she wasn’t sure what she was looking forward to more: his little gifts, or the joy of his company. Oh, who was she trying to kid? She fearfully acknowledged to herself that it was Tom himself that she was craving, but his gifts really were so thoughtful that she was overwhelmed with the sweetness of it all. On Tuesday, it was a wall calendar with a photo of a different pair of shoes on every page, one for each month of the year, with a note that read “Twelve months of fabulous shoes for you to enjoy, which you are not required to polish. Yours, Tom.” On Wednesday, the gift was a tiny box of chocolates, with a note that read, “These aren’t quite as sweet as you are, but they are fairly decent chocolates. Affectionately, Tom.” Thursday brought her a small paperback copy of the Shakespeare play, “The Taming Of The Shrew,” and Tom’s note, which was tucked inside the book, read, “So you’ll be prepared when the play opens! Affectionately yours, Tom.”

On Friday, T.J. was disappointed when she didn’t see a gift, and she sternly told herself to get over it. He didn’t owe her anything, and if he was finally seeing sense, that there really couldn’t be anything between them, then it was about time, and she should feel grateful for it. But in reality, she felt anything but, as insidiously, he had managed, over the course of the week, to break down her defenses, and she forced herself to admit to herself that she had actually started to believe that he was genuinely coming to care for her.

And in fairness, maybe he was, she thought, as she dashed the tears away, leaving a streak of black shoe polish across her cheek. But eventually even a man as optimistic as Tom was, would have to see that it was an impossible situation. Maybe, if they’d have been in the States, they could have worked it out. But things worked differently class-wise in England, and an upper-crust British gentleman like Tom could never really entertain the notion of a relationship with a lowly American shoeshine girl. And, not only that, the man in question was a famous actor, used to dating glamorous models and beautiful actresses. Like Kat, T.J. thought wryly. And it was Friday night again, and there was probably another party to attend, and this time Tom was probably prepared to go on his own and take back up with Kat where they’d left off, just like the older girl had said. It certainly made more sense than to think that Tom would actually want to spend time with a girl like her: a little nobody, nothing girl like T.J.

So she kept up the litany in her head – it’s for the best – and she practically attacked the shoes, grinding in the polish, swinging the buffing brush so hard, that she wouldn’t have been surprised if she had actually sprained something. By the time she broke for lunch, she almost had herself convinced, and she ate her sandwich and apple, washing it down with a glass of water from the tap, even though the food tasted like cardboard in her mouth. She forced herself to eat it, because in truth, shining shoes is hard work if it’s done right, and T.J. prided herself on _always_ doing it right. She guessed that today, there’d be no Tom coming up the stairs with tea at five o’clock, and her stomach clenched again, and she blinked back a fresh round of tears, telling herself firmly once more to wake up and be grateful that she had a job that she loved, and that perhaps in a few days, she could think of Tom as a merely a good friend again. Finally, dry eyed, she forced herself to climb the stairs and once more get down to work.

She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to wait on the last set of Tom’s chosen shoes for the day; probably the fact that they were an amazingly gorgeous pair of black patent leather derbys, the mirror surface lightly scuffed, but the beauty of the quintessential craftsmanship still showing through. T.J. had known instantly from her initial glance, that they were Bespoke, and she knew that they would take more than a passing nod to restore, so she’d left them as the last pair of the day. It was approaching five, and she knew it would take most of this last hour to really get them into the condition that she wanted to leave them in.

As she picked up the left one and stuck her hand in, she felt the folded paper that had been placed there. Drawing it out, she bit her lip as she slowly unfolded the note that was covered with what she, of course, recognized as Tom’s bold handwriting, and two rectangles of a stiffer paper fell out. Reaching for them hesitantly, she turned them over and saw that they were movie tickets to a popular film that was showing at a nearby cinema later that night. She found herself smiling giddily as she began to read the note.

“T.J., l hope that you will do me the honor of coming to the cinema with me this evening. I thought we could have some dinner beforehand. I’m very much looking forward to your company. Love, Tom.”

As she finished reading the note, she heard the front door open and close downstairs, and her heart soared.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Tom let himself into the house, humming one of the latest pop songs from the radio under his breath. He dropped his jacket on the back of the couch, and hung his keys on the hook by the kitchen door. He set the kettle on the stove, and whilst the water heated, he put the tray together, getting napkins and the cream and sugar, taking two cups out of the cupboard, and fixing a plate of homemade biscuits.

He smiled in anticipation. While he definitely admired T.J.’s work ethic of course, right now he was really just hoping he would be able to convince her to leave off working early tonight, so that they could be sure to have plenty of time to grab some dinner before the movie. The kettle whistled, and, the water ready, Tom made the tea, then picked up the tray and climbed the stairs to T.J.’s ‘office.’

Once again – like always, he acknowledged – his breath caught when he saw her. Although she wasn’t conventionally beautiful, she was… well, truly stunning. She was funny, witty, smart. Tom had learned much about her this past week. He’d been mildly surprised to learn that T.J. actually had a degree in civil engineering from a university in America. She was in London studying for her doctorate, but the money had run out, and she’d been forced to sit out that semester. But, Tom thought with a swell of pride, she’d already managed to save enough from what he was paying her, and had already signed up to continue her studies in the next term.

He’d discovered that the reason she was in London in the first place, was that she’d followed a man. They’d been engaged, and his job had transferred him here, but as soon as he’d arrived, he’d met someone else and abandoned her. T.J. had already been enrolled in university at that point, and had decided to stay, and while she’d been despondent at first, she’d come to realize, she told Tom, that she hadn’t been as in love with Jack as she’d thought. She was a romantic, she said, and was more in love with the idea of following her man across the ocean, than she was with the actual man himself. It had been an adventure, and she’d been able to make a life for herself here; she loved the country, the city, the university, the customs, the history, and the people, and she actually planned to apply for citizenship, once she had met the necessary residency requirements.

She was from Portend, Oregon, USA originally. Her mother, a hairdresser, still lived there, as did T.J.’s sister and her family. T.J.’s father had been a retired army officer, and the dean of a military school, and it was he who had taught T.J. how to polish shoes. He’d been killed five years earlier, rescuing some children from a burning building. All of the children had been saved, but T.J.’s father had succumbed to his burns and smoke inhalation.

***

Tom set the tray down on the little table he’d moved into the room for just that purpose, pouring the tea and fixing it to T.J.’s liking, before handing her the cup. He gazed at her, stilling his expression. He wasn’t ready yet for her to see how hard he had fallen for her; he didn’t think she was ready to accept it.

“How was your day, T.J.?” he asked fondly. “I’ve been excited all day, thinking about our date.”

“Oh, Tom, is it a date?” she asked, a little breathlessly, pausing in her polishing to look over at him from under her lashes.

Tom bit his lower lip. “It is if you want it to be,” he said, almost sounding shy. “I rather hoped it was.”

“Oh, all right then,” T.J. said softly, avoiding his eyes by turning back to the shoes. She’d gone round and round in her head over this. She decided right then, to, for once, stop thinking so much.

“Do you think you could maybe take off a little early tonight?” he asked hopefully. “So that we’d have more time for dinner?”

“Maybe,” she said, grinning at him. “If I can get this gorgeous pair of Bespoke patent leather derbys up to snuff.”

In the end, T.J. was done about half an hour early, and they got their coats and Tom escorted her out to his Jaguar. He was dressed casually in navy blue cords and a black tee shirt, with a navy blue hoodie jacket and trainers, and T.J.’s heart skipped a beat at seeing him looking that way. It was so different from the way he usually appeared, and it almost… gave her hope, somehow. It made him seem like a regular person, and she didn’t realize that she’d given voice to that thought until he shot her a glance whilst he was driving.

“What do you mean, I seem like a regular person?” he asked, sounding vaguely offended. “I _am_ a regular person! What sort of person _would_ I be? A _not_ -regular person?”

“Well, you’re _not_ ,” T.J. muttered. “You’re _not_ a regular person at all.”

Tom bit his lip. “I think I’ve just found the subject for our dinnertime conversation,” he said darkly. “I’m going to want you to explain what you mean by that.”

T.J. didn’t say anything then, and the remainder of the trip was made in relative silence. Tom kept shooting her little looks, and by the time they had pulled up outside of a small pub, T.J. was feeling distinctly uncomfortable and on the spot.

“This is one of my favorite places,” Tom said quietly, as he helped T.J. out of the car. “They have the best fish ‘n’ chips in this part of London.”

Once they were seated and their meals ordered (“Shall we share a large order, sweetheart?”), Tom leveled his gaze on T.J., chin in hand, elbow propped on the table, his posture deceptively relaxed. “Now,” he said firmly. “Tell me what you meant about me not being a – what was it? A normal – No, a _regular_ person. How am I not a regular person?”

T.J. had trouble meeting his eyes, but finally, she lifted her chin and looked at him defiantly. “Tom, you must know,” she said quietly. “You’re not like the rest of us.”

Tom reacted instantly. “But, I am…” he said, sounding genuinely puzzled and faintly annoyed. “Of course I am no different from anyone else!”

T.J. chuckled. “I think maybe you actually believe that,” she said wryly. “It’s cute.”

Tom frowned. “You’re not making any sense,” he said, beginning to sound frustrated. “Come on, T.J., tell me what you mean.”

“Oh, Tom,” she said, sighing. “You’re different in so many ways!” She paused, biting her lip, but Tom just continued to stare at her until she continued. “All right, well, for one, you’re high-class, Tom. Your family is from a different social status. And you’re rich! You went to fancy schools! And you’re gorgeous! And famous! And you’ve dated beautiful, glamorous, rich women! And who am I? A blue collar gal from the States, who doesn’t even have enough money for her current college term…”

“Stop right there,” Tom said sternly, waving her words away with his hands. “I suppose everything you’ve said about me is true, up to a point. My family _are_ well off. I _did_ go to Eton and Cambridge. I _am_ , arguably, reasonably wealthy. I suppose I _am_ famous, I’m all right with the way I look, so bless you for saying _that_ , and I _have_ dated some rather beautiful women…”

T.J. sat across from him, nodding and looking smug. “Finally, he gets it,” she muttered. “I hope we can still be friends.”

Tom gave her an impatient look. “But, you’re also all _wrong!_ ” he said humbly, but with a hard edge to his voice. “T.J., I’m just a man. I’m no better than anyone else. You talk of classes… Come on, T.J., it’s the twenty-first century, for goodness’ sake! There isn’t room in the world for classes anymore!”

“But… but…” T.J. sputtered, totally at a loss for words. She found that, once again, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Tom reached across the table, cupping her face in his hand. “I like you, T.J.” he said softly. “You’re smart, kind, funny, interesting, and so many other things.” He stroked his thumb over her lips, and looked into her eyes. “And you’re beautiful, T.J., all the more so because you don’t seem to realize it. You quite take my breath away.”

T.J. felt her cheeks turn pink. “Really?” she asked faintly.

Tom smirked and chuckled a little. “Yes, really,” he said. “Now eat your dinner. I think you’ll find it excellent.”

Tom was right, of course, and as they ate, they managed to keep up a friendly, innocuous conversation. Tom was full of enthusiasm for his theater project, and his excitement was contagious. T.J. couldn’t help looking forward to seeing it, as it seemed to her as if it were a role that Tom was born to play.

“Thank you again for the book, by the way,” she said happily. “Of course I’ve read it before, but it’s one of my favorites, and the copy you’ve given me has such wonderful hand-written notes in it. Whoever owned it before has provided such insights, and it’s been a real treat to read, not only the play, but the former owners’ thoughts and feelings as well.”

Tom ran his hand through his hair and looked away, and on closer look, T.J. thought that maybe he was blushing. “Oh, thank you for that,” he said. “It’s, um… it’s… well, actually, it’s mine. I mean, it’s yours now, but it _was_ mine. The notes are mine. I’m glad you don’t mind them.”

“ _Mind_ them? Are you crazy? Tom, they’re brilliant! Thank you so much!” T.J. said, smiling broadly, and Tom turned even pinker, if possible.

They finished eating, and as Tom escorted T.J. once more to his car, she caught her breath at the feel of his hand at her back. When they got to the cinema, she handed in the tickets that Tom had left for her in his shoe, and then they stood in line for popcorn and sodas.

“I’m stuffed from dinner, but I can’t watch a film without popcorn,” Tom confessed bashfully.

“I’m the same way,” T.J. said, grinning.

“And Dots!” Tom said, putting the box of gumdrop candies on the counter for purchase. “Except, that I only like the red and orange ones.”

T.J. laughed out loud. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked. When he shook his head, looking serious, she added, “I only like the yellow and green ones!”

“See?” Tom said, smiling happily. “You and I are perfect together!”

T.J. bit her lip as her stomach dropped. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” she murmured almost inaudibly, and Tom looked away, pretending not to hear her.

“Back row, middle, or front?” he asked, turning to her, brows raised.

“Back row, on the side,” T.J. said, with a smile.

“And yet again,” Tom said under his breath, nodding and smirking smugly.

But T.J. heard him and her eyes widened as she followed him into the theater, to seats in the back row on the left side. It was exactly where she would have chosen to sit, and she silently acknowledged to herself, that they did seem to like a lot of the same things.

They both enjoyed the film, laughing in the same places, gasping in tandem at the secret revelations, and sighing when the hero revealed his softer side. When Tom reached over and took T.J.’s hand, entwining their fingers, T.J. bit her lip, and her heart sped up. She gently squeezed back, and her stomach dropped when Tom bent over and nuzzled her temple, brushing his lips over her brow. When the film was over, they turned to look at each other in the darkness.

“I always stay for the credits,” they said softly, at exactly the same time, and “Good!” they replied together a moment later.

They held hands as they walked to the car, and T.J. was silent as Tom opened her door and helped her in. He went around to his own side, starting the car and pulling into traffic.

“I suppose I should get you home,” he said quietly.

“It’s Friday night; I don’t have to work tomorrow.” T.J. said cheekily, then she paused. “I don’t want the night to end,” she confessed wistfully.

“Would you come back to mine?” Tom asked hopefully. “I have a really fairly sizeable video library. Or, we could talk.”

“I probably shouldn’t,” she murmured regretfully. “Tom, can I ask you something? And will you tell me the truth?”

He shot her a vaguely hurt look. “Of course,” he said, sounding perplexed. “T.J., I’ve never been anything less than honest with you. I never will be. “

“What am I to you, besides your shoeshine?” she burst out. “I don’t understand. What do you want from me?”

Tom didn’t answer as they arrived at his house. He got out of the car and went around to T.J.’s side, opening her door and helping her out of the car. He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him, finding the correct key and unlocking the front door of his house. He pulled her inside and shut the door behind them, then took her by the shoulders and stood looking down at her. Finally, the agitation that he’d been feeling left him, and his body relaxed from the stiff carriage with which he’d been holding himself.

He took a deep breath, and his grip on her shoulders gentled to a caress. “You asked what you are to me, what I want from you.”

T.J. looked up at him with wide eyes, and nodded mutely.

Tom quirked his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and shook his head. “I would have thought I was being fairly obvious,” he said, sounding mildly scolding, faintly frustrated. “I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

And then he kissed her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t seem to stop working on this story. It runs through my head when I’m driving, when I’m at work, and when I’m trying to sleep. I’ve already started Chapter 7, so… Anyway, I hope it satisfies. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 6

“You’re crazy,” T.J.sighed, leaning forward and resting her forehead against Tom’s collar bone. His kiss had been chaste, but she could feel the suppressed passion in him. She almost swooned when his arms tightened around her and he began nuzzling his nose into her hair.

“We had such chemistry the night of Kat’s party,” he said softly, against her ear. “But you were right to stop me then. It was too soon, and it would have ruined this.” He drew a deep breath. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. The truth is, I haven’t felt that way or that strongly about anyone in a very long time. I wanted to spend this week getting to know you better, to see if the feelings were just superficial, if they’d last, or if they would change.”

“And did they?” she asked quietly, holding her breath.

“Yes,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. “They got stronger.”

T.J. drew back enough that she could look up into his face. “Oh, Tom,” she whispered.

Tom scraped his top teeth over his bottom lip. “T.J.,” he said, looking into her eyes, “I think…”

T.J. reached up and pressed the tips of her fingers to his mouth, shaking her head, instinctively knowing what he was going to say. “Shhh,” she said. “Too soon. But…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rose on tip toes, tugging his head down until their lips met. “…tonight I won’t say no,” she whispered.

Tom made a sound low in his throat, and crushed his mouth to hers. She opened instantly when she felt his tongue on her lips, and moaned as she let hers meet his. He ran his hands up and down her back, his touch gentle, soothing but arousing at the same time, and T.J. tangled her fingers in his hair, clutching him to her.

Tom broke the kiss, pressing his mouth to the sensitive skin behind her ear. “T.J., are you sure?” he said lowly. “If you’re not, tell me now.”

“I’m sure,” T.J. gasped. “Please, Tom.”

In one fluid movement, he peeled her tee shirt over her head, and then raised his hands over his head, silently willing her, his eyes wide. T.J. only hesitated a second or two before grasping the hem of his tee shirt and pulling it off of him. They stood looking at each other, breathing heavily.

Tom’s eyes dropped to her lace-covered breasts. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, reaching out and stroking her palms over his chest. Her eyes dropped lower, to the prominent bulge in his trousers, and her breath caught. “Oh, my,” she said. As if compelled, her hand dropped and palmed him through his clothes.

Tom groaned and involuntarily, his hips pushed into her. “T.J.,” he whispered.

Silently, she outstretched her other hand to him, and he took it, turning and leading her up the stairs and into his bedroom. He faced her, a question in his eyes, and she nodded almost imperceptibly, reaching for the button and zip of her jeans. Their eyes stayed focused on each other’s as they each undid their own trousers and dropped them to the floor. Clad in only their underwear, they stepped forward into each other’s arms. Their mouths melded, and Tom found the clasp of her bra, unfastening it quickly and pulling the straps down her arms. He cupped her breasts in his hands, bending his head to take one rosy nipple into his mouth. He suckled her gently, and T.J. moaned as she cradled his face in her hands.

“Tom, I need you,” T.J. said pleadingly, her knees threatening to buckle.

“I know, love, I know,” Tom said soothingly. He straightened up and took her hands. He guided her until she was sitting on the edge of his bed, then he knelt between her knees. “I want to pleasure you, T.J. Lay back.”

T.J. quivered in anticipation as Tom slipped her panties down her legs. Her eyes met his. “So beautiful,” he breathed.

T.J. smiled a crooked half-smile. “Yes, you are,” she said, brushing his hair back from his forehead a moment before he buried his face between her thighs.

“Oh, god,” she gasped, as Tom parted her lower lips, teasing her opening but avoiding her clit. She clutched at his hair with both hands, trying to move him to where she needed him. “Tom,” she murmured protestingly.

“Shhh,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’ve got you.” He pulled her legs over his shoulders and finally sucked her clit into his mouth.

T.J. cried out as he licked and sucked at her, her hips bucking involuntarily against his face. “I’m going to… I’m going to… Oh, god…” she moaned, as she came against his mouth.

Tom continued to lick at her until he was sure she was finished, and then he sat back on his heels, a look of proud satisfaction on his face. T.J. sensuously scrambled back up the bed until she rested with her head upon his pillows. She held out her arms to him. “Come take me, Tom,” she whispered. “I want you.”

Tom stood, dropping his boxers before he joined her on the bed. He stroked his hand down her body, lust and, something else that T.J. didn’t want to analyze right then, in his eyes as he gazed into her face. Boldly, she took his erection into her hand, squeezing gently and stroking lightly.

“Careful,” he growled softly, “or this will be over before it’s begun.” He dropped a gentle kiss on her mouth before rolling over, opening the bedside drawer and pulling out a foil packet.

T.J. smiled a sweet, knowing smile, taking it, ripping it open, and bending over him to roll it down over his considerable length. “Now,” she said.

“Yes,” Tom agreed, and laying between her thighs and lining up his cock with her opening, he slowly entered her, pausing every inch to allow her to adjust to his size. When he was fully seated, he rested his forehead against hers. “It feels like coming home,” he said, before kissing her sweetly.

“Oh, move in me, Tom,” T.J. said, locking her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips.

“Yes,” he said again, and slowly began thrusting into her moist heat. “Oh, T.J….”

T.J. purposely flexed her inner muscles as Tom continued pushing into her. “You’re so tight…” he gasped urgently. “Are you close? Because I’m not going to last… T.J….” He reached between them, finding her clit with his thumb. “Come on, love,” he begged.

“Oh… oh, Tom…!” T.J. groaned as she came again, more intense than the first time. Convulsively she clutched Tom to her.

The feeling of her clamping down on his cock catapulted Tom into his own orgasm. His hips bucked spasmodically as he emptied himself into the condom.

As he regained his breath, he buried his face in her hair, groaning reluctantly as he withdrew from her before he could soften too much. He removed the condom, tying it into a knot before dropping it on the floor at the side of the bed. He rolled to his back, pulling her against him until she pillowed her face against his chest. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured.

“OK, yes,” she said faintly, already half asleep. Tom sighed in contentment, and soon, they both slept.

***

Tom woke slowly the next day, his morning wood throbbing the way it always did, except that this morning, for the first time in quite a while, his hips were involuntarily pushing against the warm arse that he was spooning against. His arm was around her, cupping her breast, his nose was in her hair, and he felt warm, relaxed, and really, really good.

“Mmmm,” he murmured, kissing the back of her neck. “Are you awake? Do you feel as wonderful as I do?”

She wiggled her bum against his erection, and pushed back into his arms, before rolling to her back and kissing him. “Simple answer,” she said groggily. “Yes, and yes.” She reached between them and found his hard cock, taking him in her hand and stroking slowly. “Lazy, Saturday morning sex please,” she said, turning into his embrace, her eyes never opening.

He brushed her hair back before kissing her deeply, one hand finding her breast, his fingers tweaking her nipple. She continued to pump him, and be bucked into her hand.

“Lay on your back,” she said softly, and as soon as he did, she moved until she was laying between his knees.

“What are you…?” he asked, then gasped when she took the head of his cock into her mouth, sucking gently.

Grasping him around the base, she pulled off and smiled sleepily up at him. “I wanted to do this last night, but we went in a different direction. Now just relax,” she murmured.

Tom groaned as T.J. took in back into her mouth, slowly moving up and down on his shaft, her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him. She hummed low in her throat, a sound of satisfaction and contentment, and the feeling of the vibrations added to the overall effect. Tom’s arousal escalated much faster than he wanted it to, and he gently grasped T.J.’s head between his palms, attempting to get her to stop, but she was seemingly lost in a sensual haze.

“T.J.,” Tom tried, “Teej, you have to stop or I’m going to cum too quickly.”

T.J. pulled off him with a slurping sound and looked up at him with a wicked grin. “OK, well then, what did you have in mind?” she asked coyly.

Tom turned, reaching into the drawer for a condom and handed it to her. “Would you ride me, love?” he asked lazily, and T.J. smirked, opening the package and rolling it onto him, before moving up his body until her knees straddled his lean hips. She held his cock in one hand and sank down on him, her pussy slick and welcoming with her arousal. She just held still for a moment, before grinding against him wantonly. “You feel so good,” she said, on a sigh, her head tipped back and eyes closed, while she basked in the feeling of overwhelming fullness. “You’re so… big.”

“You’re so soft,” Tom said with a smirk, resting his hands on her thighs, aroused, but still relaxed and sated from the night before. He felt no urgency; rather, his motivation that morning was to savor her sweetness. “I haven’t been with anyone in a while,” he said, caressing her skin with his palms. “It feels… nice, to care for someone, to want to _take_ care of them. Teej, will you let me take care of you?”

T.J. bent forward, running her fingers through his hair, pressing her mouth to his. She nestled her face in the crook of his neck. “You’re so perfect,” she said wonderingly. “Why are you with me?”

Tom huffed, exasperated, and grasped her firmly, flipping them so that he was on top. “I just told you; I _care_ for you. I _like_ you, T.J.” He licked his lips. “It might be… something _more_. So, stop it! You’re so impossible!”

He rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching, and then he began thrusting into her. T.J. watched him, her eyes huge, until her arousal got so strong that she had to fight to keep her eyes open. She forced herself to focus on him, and when she gasped and came, Tom felt her spasming around him, and saw it on her face.

He gritted his teeth and began slamming into her hard, driving towards his own climax now that she was satisfied. He also kept his eyes open, granting her the same gift, and she felt strangely humbled by the gesture. “Thank you,” she whispered, as his orgasm overtook him, and he came deep inside her.

Afterwards, they cuddled together, Tom’s face pillowed against T.J.’s breast while she stroked his hair. She ran her fingers over his three-day beard. “You have the best skin,” she said softly. “The best _everything_. Tom,” she paused, swallowing, “what happens if I fall in love with you?”

Tom moved, raising up on one elbow, propping his head up in one hand, and brushing the fingertips of his other over her face and hair. “No one can see the future, T.J., but right now, I could ask you the same question. I have just as much to lose as you do.” He toyed with her hair, and she could tell that he was carefully weighing his words. “I know that you’ve been hurt before; so have I. There are no guarantees in life, but I like who I am with you. I like where I think we’re headed, and I’m pretty sure that I want to go there.” He bit his lip. “Will you come with me?”

He gazed down at her with wide, guileless eyes, and T.J. felt her heart shift. She felt tears in her eyes, and she nodded mutely. Tom looked at her for a few moments longer, then kissed her sweetly and wiped at her tears, laying his head back down on her chest.

He sighed. “Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “It will be worth it, I promise you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you know what? I intended this thing to be a short little light hearted romp, but instead, it’s grown all out of proportion! But, you seem to like it, and I’m just compelled to write it, so on it goes! I have already begun Chapter 8… It’s out of character for me, so, hmmm, stay tuned, if you will! Enjoy!

Chapter 7

‘Of course I’m in love with him,’ T.J. thought. After all, the man had deliberately tried his hardest to be lovable, and she’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. But the amazing thing, she thought with wonder, is that she was pretty sure that he was in love with her, too. They hadn’t said the words to each other yet, but she felt it, and she was reasonably certain that he did, as well.

Another week had passed, and the little gifts had mostly stopped. Mostly. There _had_ been flowers one day, earlier that week. And there were still the notes. They melted T.J.’s heart, and of course, she’d kept them all, reading and rereading them at night, after she’d gone home to her tiny flat. And Tom still brought her tea, talking and laughing with her as she finished up for the day. And yesterday, he’d even taken the buffing brush, dabbing at the shoes, and she’d laughed scoldingly, taking it from him, and showing him the proper way to buff.

“I’m impressed,” he’d said. “No wonder you get such a shine. You put your whole body into it.” Yes, indeed.

Well, it was Friday again, and T.J. stashed her lunch in the fridge and climbed the stairs, pretty sure that she might find something special today. She opened the door to her ‘office,’ and discovered right away that she was correct. There, prominently displayed amongst the shoes, was a rather long note. Curiously, T.J. reached for it.

“Dear T.J., happy Friday! First of all, please read this note and do everything it says, in the proper order. Right now, go into my room and look in my closet. You’ll know immediately what you’re supposed to be looking for. Stop reading right now and go take a look.”

Giggling to herself at the air of mystery and at the slightly imperious tone of the writing, T.J. nevertheless quit reading and went across and down the hall to Tom’s room, crossing through and pushing open his closet door. And gasped, for hanging there was one of the other dresses she had tried on the day of Kat’s party, as well as matching Jimmy Choo strappy, high-heeled sandals. It had been a close decision, but Tom had bought her the dress she’d ultimately worn that night, and she hadn’t figured that she would actually even see this one ever again. T.J. took a deep breath, licking her lips, then unfolded the note she was still clutching, picking up where she had left off reading.

“Don’t even think it, and I certainly do not want to hear anything about it later! You know I can afford it, and if I want to buy my girlfriend nice things, then I bloody well will!”

T.J. chuckled, but kept reading.

“There is a party at Ben’s tonight that I hope you’ll say we can attend; obviously, you’d need a different dress to wear, so here it is. I want you to quit work an hour early, take a shower, get dressed, do your makeup and hair, and then wait for me. I’ll be home to shower and dress myself at about five-thirty (sorry, no tea tonight), and then we’ll have some dinner on our way to the party. I can’t wait to show off my oh-so-smart and glamorous girlfriend! Have a wonderful day with the shoes! Love, Tom.”

T.J. knew that she was wearing a goofy smile as she set to work on the four sets of shoes that Tom had set aside for her that day. She wasn’t quite sure if the reason there were so few was because he was asking her to have a short day, or if because he was actually running out of shoes he couldn’t bear to part with. Some of each, she guessed, as she was actually emptying out the bin. A month ago, she would have predicted that this job would take much longer than it had, but she loved the work, she loved the shoes and… she loved her boss. She loved Tom, she thought yet again, and she smiled a small, secret smile as she came to the decision then and there to tell him that night. He deserved to know, she thought, and she was ready to tell him. It didn’t matter whether he said it back to her or not, although she was rather thinking that he probably, actually would.

She finished up the ‘keeper’ shoes in short order, then carefully transferred them to the rack inside Tom’s closet, pausing after each trip to admire the beautiful dress hanging there. After the last pair of shoes had been polished and lovingly put in their place, T.J. stopped to take the dress down, holding it against herself and standing in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the cut and color, before hanging it back up, then going to the immense bin in the corner and helping herself to several more pairs of ‘charity’ shoes. She smirked to herself when she recalled the conversation she’d had last week with Tom about the fate of the shoes that he didn’t plan to keep.

“Luke wants to have an online auction, an ebay-type thing,” Tom said, running his hand through his hair. “He said it would raise - uh, how did he put it again? - more money than Hugh Heffner’s had bed mates, or something like that! Anyway, it does seem like a good idea. As much as I would like to,” and he gave a sad little frown, “I know that I can’t keep _all_ of these, and, if they can go to someone who would wear them and love them, and we could make some money for UNlCEF at the same time, well then, that would be fantastic!”

Tom really was the most generous of men, T.J. thought fondly, as she broke for lunch. Turning on some music and getting her book from her bag, she enjoyed her sandwich and cookies, flexing first the fingers of one hand, and then the other, working out the kinks, resting to avoid cramps. But, glancing at her watch, she confirmed to herself that it was time to go back to work.

By the time five o’clock had rolled around, T.J. was forced to admit that her time here was almost up. A quick calculation predicted that she would finish up the shoes in the bin in about another four weeks’ time, which, she thought with a melancholy little grin, would be just in time for the new term to start at university. Now, there was something to look forward to, because she’d missed her studies, and just because she wouldn’t have so many shoes to work with any more, she would still have Tom’s usual, day to day shoe shine needs to fulfill.

And besides, she thought with elation as she tidied up her work space for the day, in preparation of getting ready for their date, she was Tom’s girlfriend now! She didn’t need the shoes as an excuse to see him anymore. And he had bought her a gorgeous dress to wear (and as much as that made her feel a little bit funny, she knew she would not insult Tom by saying anything about it, other than ‘thank you’), and he was taking her to a party, and it was time to shower and change.

As she washed her hair in the secondary washroom that was adjacent to her ‘office’ bedroom, T.J. contemplated the consequences of appearing at another party on Tom’s arm. He had casually mentioned that eventually, their relationship would garner the attention of the media, and he’d also informed her that at some point, she would need to meet with and make the acquaintance of Luke. When she had first heard this slightly disturbing news, T.J. had felt quite considerable trepidation, but Tom treated it as if it were no big deal, and his attitude had put T.J. at ease in a relatively short amount of time. She knew, after all, that she was dating a celebrity – and a little online research had confirmed just how famous he was – and she honestly didn’t expect to be able to stay under the radar forever.

She had put on the dress and sandals, and was back in the secondary washroom, trying to put some semblance of order to her hair and makeup, when she heard Tom come in and race up the stairs, taking them two at a time from the sound of it, she thought, on his way to his own room. His bedroom door opened and closed, and then the water started up in his own shower, and T.J. started to panic, because her hair just wouldn’t behave, and finally, she decided to give up and wear it down, fastening it behind her ears with a couple of jeweled combs that, for some reason, she still had in her purse.

She had just stepped out of the washroom and into her ‘office’ bedroom, when Tom knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar. It opened at his touch, and his breath caught when he got a look at her. He swallowed visibly, and pulled at his collar with his index finger, as if it were too tight.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready?” he said again, in a much more normal voice.

T.J. smiled and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m not very happy with my hair. I just couldn’t get it to do what I wanted it to, tonight.”

Tom looked at her assessingly, a kind of dazed and dreamy look in his eyes. “I think you look perfect,” he said softly. “Would you spin for me?”

Nodding and smiling, T.J. did so, liking the way the dress’s short skirt swirled around her knees.

“You look beautiful,” Tom said, sighing. “Shall we go?”

T.J. took the elbow that he proffered, looking up at him with a smile. “What, no kiss?” she asked cheekily.

Tom looked down at her with his brows raised. “Well, I didn’t want to mess up your lipstick,” he said.

“I have more in my purse,” she murmured, putting her arms around his shoulders and tipping her face up to his, “So, mess away.”

Tom put one arm around her, cupped her face with the other hand, and lowered his mouth to hers. T.J. made a little sound deep in her throat, and Tom groaned and deepened the kiss, before tearing his lips away from hers.

“None of that,” he chided, panting a little, “We need to go if we want dinner before the party. And I expect that I need a tissue, as do you.” He smirked as he rubbed his thumb over the lipstick smears near her mouth.

“As much as I would like to make _you_ my dinner,” she said with a leer, “I’m afraid my stomach would protest.” And she ducked back into the washroom, fixing her lipstick quickly, then returning to Tom, handing him a tissue.

“OK, I’m ready,” she said, with a smug, satisfied smile. “Let’s go.”

***

Dinner was at a nice steak house that made T. J. think of home. “I didn’t think they had this sort of place here,” she told Tom. “If I had to pick a food that I thought was quintessentially American at heart, I would pick this: salad, steaks, rolls, and baked potatoes. I know a lot of people think of hamburgers, but I really just always think of steak.”

“I think I agree with you!” Tom, who had been to the States several times, said, grinning.

By the time they were done with the meal, it was the perfect time to head to Ben’s party, and they arrived just as the majority of the contingent were also showing up.

“Perfect timing, as always, Tom!” Ben said jovially as he took T.J.’s coat and hung it in the closet. “And the lovely T.J.,” he said, taking her hand in greeting, bending slightly and squeezing gently. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Thank you,” T.J. murmured, his deep voice sending chills down her spine. Tom, who had his hand on her back, jerked his brows up when he felt it, and she shot him a sideways glance under her lashes, trying to gage his reaction. Tom just smirked, and T.J. gave him a little relieved and apologetic smile as he escorted her further into the room where most of the other guests were.

T.J. spotted Kat right away, standing off to one side, chatting with a small circle of what appeared to be mostly men. The older woman looked up and saw T.J. and Tom a split second later, and she turned with a predatory and hungry look on her face and said something to a blond girl who was standing next her. T.J. realized that she herself must have reacted somehow, because Tom followed her gaze, stiffening when he caught sight of where T.J. was looking.

“Fuck, I should have known she’d be here,” he said venomously under his breath.

“It’s OK,” T.J. said soothingly. “I’m here for you.”

Tom gave her a little half smile, slinging his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side. “Thanks,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. “And here she comes.”

T.J. was once again struck by the Kat’s sensuous, feline grace as she slowly made her way across the room towards them, the blond woman in tow.

“Hello, Tom, and, uh, C.J., was it? J.D.? Whatever,” Kat said, purring over Tom’s name. “You know Lainey, don’t you?”

“T.J.,” Tom corrected shortly, and then nodded to the blond. “Hello Lainey, Kat. What do you want?”

“Oh, Tom, don’t be that way,” Kat said with a pout, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. “I wanted to talk to you. Privately, if you don’t mind. I’d like to apologize.” She didn’t so much as even glance again at T.J., and the younger girl narrowed her eyes and waited for Tom’s response.

“Perhaps later,” he said, shrugging off her hand, sounding as if it could never be later enough. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…” Tom steered T.J. away from them then, towards the bar, and as she glanced back at where Kat still stood, T.J. shivered at the hate-filled daggers look the older woman flung at her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry, this is so out of character for me. I am already working on fixing it in Chapter 9, and I can tell you that I only write happy endings or sequels. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my dearest Tonya J., for a couple of reasons that she knows about. Love you, babe. Can’t say enjoy… just don’t kill me…

Chapter 8

They’d been thereawhile, and Tom was so excited and proud to have T.J. on his arm. It was a good party; but she had gotten quiet, and Tom was just a little bit concerned. “Are you have a good time, dearest?” he asked, smiling down at her.

“Of course,” she said, returning his smile and squeezing his hand. “I’m with you! And besides, most of these people are just so nice. Not at all the way I thought they would be, all snobby and everything. I’m a little tired, because my job is physically demanding, you know,” she said with a cheeky grin. “But we can stay a little longer. Although if we do, I should probably use the washroom.”

“Well, I was hoping to be able to speak with Ken Brannaugh before we left, if that’s all right,” Tom said, tucking a stay lock of hair behind her ear and touching her face gently.

“Of course,” T.J. said, smirking broadly. “But only if I get to meet him!”

“I wouldn’t have it and other way,” Tom said, laughing out loud, his tongue between his teeth, giving her a little push. “Go use the washroom, and then we’ll go find him.”

T.J. nodded, then wandered off down the hall, towards where she knew the washroom was, and Tom watched her go, his heart in his eyes. He gave a wry smile; he was in love with her, he acknowledged to himself. He’d never felt quite this same way about anyone before. The thought was a little frightening; it seemed so… final. T.J. felt like his future. He wondered if she was ready to hear that. He was going to need to tell her soon, or else he was liable to just blurt it out at some random, inopportune time. That’s really not how he wanted her to find it out, so he resolved to find a time and a way to tell her sooner, rather than later. And he was unbelievably excited.

Tom was thus lost in his thoughts when he was approached by Kat, who was once more accompanied by Lainey.

“Did your new toy desert you, Tom?” Kat asked with a sneer.

“My girlfriend, T.J., is using the washroom,” Tom said, in a deceptively lazy voice, refusing to allow Kat the satisfaction of seeing him rise to her bait. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, I just thought, you know, since she’s so young, and there are so many celebrities here, that she was maybe a little star struck. Her kind always are,” Kat said, taking his drink from his hand and sipping from it.

Tom snatched unsteadily at his glass, pursing his lips and guessing that he’d maybe had more to drink already than he should have. “What do you mean by that?” he asked shortly, giving up on the whiskey.

Kat took a step back, spreading her hands in front of her, trying to placate him. “Never mind. But I was thinking that now might be a good time for us to have our little talk,” she said innocently. “I just want to make things right between us, Tom. We should be friends. You know we’ll be working together again soon.” She handed him back the glass and laid her hand on his arm again, the way she had earlier.

Tom flinched, but this time he didn’t pull away. He hated being at odds with anyone; he only wanted to get along. He had T.J. now, and he loved her, and this woman was in his past and could no longer hurt him. What harm would it do to listen to what she had to say? Maybe he should give her the chance she was asking for.

“You’re not going to give this up until I talk with you, are you?” he asked, eying her resignedly, knowing instantly that it is was true, as well.

“No, I’m really not, Tom,” she said earnestly. “I don’t like that you’re mad at me. I won’t give up until you give me a chance to explain and make it up to you. I know I hurt you. I need to try to fix things between us.”

Tom studied her for a moment; she seemed so sincere. When she’d broken things off so suddenly, with no word of explanation, he’d been devastated. Their affair had been hot, brief, and passionate. In hindsight, he had probably taken things too fast. But the chemistry had been so immediate, so strong, so powerful, and he’d thought that they’d both been on the same page. He’d fallen fast and hard, and he thought she had too. He’d thought that since things were so good between them physically, that they could get to know each other better slowly, over the course of their relationship; that they’d have more time. Well, he had always been so impulsive, he admitted to himself. It had burned itself out almost before it had even begun. And it had hurt, more than anything he’d encountered before or since. But that had been five years ago; it was probably way past time to let it go, to heal the breach.

“All right, we can talk,” he said softly. “Go ahead, say what you’re going to say.”

Kat looked uncomfortable. “Not here,” she said regretfully, glancing around. “We need to speak in private.”

“Oh, well, when T.J. gets back from the washroom then,” Tom said evenly. “We can probably find someplace.”

“Let’s go ahead and do it now,” Kat said reasonably. “It won’t take long. Lainey and I just came from there, and I can tell you that there’s quite a line for the nearest washroom. With any luck, you and I will be done before your little – before _T.J._ – is even back.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly go off without letting her know where I am,” Tom said mildly. “So sorry. We’ll have to wait for her.”

The blond spoke for the first time. “I can wait for her,” Lainey said helpfully. “I’ll tell her where you are, if she gets here before you’re done.”

“I don’t know,” Tom said doubtfully, frowning a little. Something inside him knew this was a bad idea, but he told himself not to be so paranoid.

Kat took his arm, pulling him towards the hall. “Come on, Tom,” she said. “Come talk to me. Lainey will bring T.J. if she gets anxious.”

Tom allowed himself to be led. They’d talk this out, and then he could get on with his life, his new life with T.J., free from the hurt and anger he always felt around Kat.

***

T. J. had finally had her turn in the washroom, and with one last check in the mirror, she went back out to try to find Tom. She was directionally challenged, and at first went the wrong way, but when she found herself in the kitchen, she turned around and finally made her way back out to the room where she’d left Tom. She’d been gone so long, he was probably wondering what had happened to her!

Glancing around briefly, she felt a tiny touch of panic when she didn’t see him right away. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she told herself to calm down. He was here somewhere. Perhaps he had needed to use the washroom as well, or maybe someone had called him away. T.J. began to slowly make a circuit around the room.

She had already had a couple drinks, and she thought perhaps that Tom was actually ahead of her – the man did like to drink. She headed for the bar, thinking idly that they would probably have to take a cab home, unless by some miracle Tom would actually consider letting her drive his car. They’d talked about it, and while T.J. felt a little anxious at the idea of piloting the sleek, powerful Jaguar, it was exciting, too! She asked the bartender for a Coca-Cola, just in case. She hadn’t had _that_ much to drink. By the time they were ready to go home, she would probably be fine to drive.

Sipping at her soda, she slowly began another turn around the room, looking for Tom’s tall frame and listening for his distinctive laugh, which, she thought with affection, was usually so hard to miss. This time around, she spotted Kat’s friend, Lainey, standing alone off to the side.

“Hello. Lainey, isn’t it?” T.J. asked pleasantly. “I met you earlier this evening. I’m T.J. I’m Tom’s girlfriend. Tom Hiddleston.”

“I remember,” the blond girl said, smiling a little. “Yes, I’m Lainey.”

“Have you by any chance seen Tom? I’ve been around a couple of times, and he seems to have wandered off,” T.J. smiled, her face open. Lainey seemed a much nicer person than Kat.

“Oh, yes, I know where he is, but trust me, you don’t want to find him right now,” Lainey replied, a little cryptically, smiling rather smugly, T.J. thought.

“What do you mean by that?” T.J. asked, for the first time feeling a little unease.

Lainey bit her lip. “Um, well, um, he’s not exactly alone…”

T.J. relaxed, chuckling. “Yes, well, we’re at a party, after all!”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” the blond girl said, an odd note in her voice that T.J. didn’t like. “A little dim, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think so,” T.J. said quietly. “Secure and trusting, I would think. So, I’ll ask again: have you seen Tom?”

Lainey pointed to a door on the other side of the room. “If you go down that hall, you’ll find him in the third room on the right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” she said with a smirk.

T.J. gave her a little smile. “Thanks,” she said, and headed in the direction that Lainey had indicated.

The hall was dim, and this seemed to be a more private part of the house. The third door on the right was slightly ajar, and T.J. heard voices: low murmurs, whispers, and… moans? She only hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door.

Two people were locked in an intimate embrace. They were kissing, and T.J. could tell that the man had his tongue in the woman’s mouth. One of his arms was wrapped around his companion’s shoulders, while the hand of the other was up under her dress, fingers working between her legs. The moans were coming from the woman; it sounded as if she were just about to come.

It was Tom and Kat, and T.J.’s drink hit the floor at about the same time as her heart shattered. She cried out, and she wasn’t sure if the tinkling sound that she heard was the ice rattling in her glass, or the shards of her heart falling to the floor. She turned and ran.

“T.J., wait!” she thought she heard Tom’s voice, but it sounded agonized, so of course, she must have been imagining it. Her ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton, anyway. And of course, there was no way she was going to wait.

She fled down the hall, fumbling with her cell phone, calling for a cab. “The sooner the better,” she told the dispatcher, giving him the address.

“I actually have a driver dropping off a party a couple of streets away from you,” the man said. “I can have him there in five minutes.”

“That would be amazing,” T.J. said with a gasp, dashing tears from her face with her free hand. She headed for the closet where, a lifetime ago, Ben had hung her coat. She rummaged through the hanging garments til she found hers, shrugging into it and slipping unnoticed out the front door.

Her phone rang as she stood there waiting for the cab; it was Tom. She blinked at it dumbly for a moment, not able to imagine for the life of her why he was calling her. She didn’t need to hear him tell her it was over; she was smart enough to figure that out on her own. She turned the phone off and put it back into her purse.

The taxi dispatcher was as good as his word, and in less than five minutes the cab was pulling up in front of Ben’s house. “Where to, miss?” the driver asked jauntily.

Oh. T.J. hadn’t thought that far ahead. Her first instinct was to just go home, but then she realized that that didn’t actually make any sense on a lot of levels. If Tom decided to come after her (which, she didn’t know why he would want to do something like that, although the man did have a rather touching and attractive sense of old fashioned chivalry, she reminded herself with a pang), that would probably be where he would go. And she needed to avoid him at all costs right now, or she would more than likely break down and do something stupid, like throw herself at him and beg him not to leave her, something that he would no doubt find awkward, uncomfortable, and exceedingly unattractive.

And besides, her car and all of her gear was actually still at his house, and wouldn’t it just be much more pleasant for him if she would just get out of his life and leave him, and Kat, to it? Numbly, she found herself giving the cabbie Tom’s address.

As they pulled up in front of the building, T.J. poked around in her purse for her wallet, pulling out some bills, remembering with a melancholy feeling of nostalgia the first time she’d seen Tom, letting himself into the house just after accepting the lead part of Petruchio in The Taming Of The Shrew. She realized with quite a bit of regret that she wouldn’t get to see the play now. She handed the driver the money, and then quickly let herself into the house as the taxi pulled away.

She slipped off her gorgeous, borrowed shoes (wondering idly if Kat wore her size, and if the other girl would ever consider wearing these as she, T.J., had not even had them on for very long) and running up the stairs. She put the lovely dress, and those shoes, back in Tom’s closet where she’d got them, slipping back into her own work clothes. She couldn’t help gazing at all of the exquisite shoes on Tom’s vast shoe rack, and then she went over to the bin, regretfully saying goodbye to the last couple of hundred pairs that she would never have the chance to restore now. She wiped tears (again), as she made her way back to Tom’s second bedroom – it was no longer her ‘office,’ she told herself sternly – where she packed up her rags, polishes, and brushes. Making one last quick sweep, she was confident that she had remembered to pack everything that was hers. She didn’t want Tom and Kat to have to deal with any unwanted reminders of her.

By midnight, she was at Heathrow Airport. By 6:30 am, she was on an airplane heading for Portland, Oregon, USA.

T.J. was going home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the reaction to the last chapter was pretty much what I expected. Thanks to everybody who is invested in this story – it means a lot to me! So, I am an eternally romantic, optimistic person, and I already know how this is going to end, ehehehe… Tom’s dug quite a hole for himself, but T.J. is wise beyond her years, and so I’m asking you to trust me. But, it may take a couple of chapters… It’s a _really_ deep hole…

Chapter 9

“Oh, T.J., my dearest,” Tom whispered, and nuzzled her neck, continuing to pleasure her, her moans low in his ear, encouraging him. Her taste, touch, and sounds seemed a little off, but Tom couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He told himself to stop being paranoid. After all, his mind was clouded with lust and drink, and he told himself that this _had_ to be T.J., because, after all, he was in love with _her_ , so why would he be here making love to someone else?

He kissed her again, and then he heard the glass hit the carpet as a voice cried out in agony, and he pulled away and whirled around, just in time to see T.J. running out the door. “T.J.,” he cried, his voice sounding every bit as distressed as hers did. His first instinct was to chase after her, but he knew she wouldn’t thank him for making a scene. He spun back around to face the woman, with whom, up until a few minutes ago, he had been locked in a passionate embrace.

“You evil bitch!” he spat at her. “You pit viper! You did that on purpose!”

“You weren’t exactly fighting me off, Tom,” Kat pointed out sarcastically. “But you _are_ leaving me high and dry. Are you gonna come finish me?”

“You wish,” Tom ground out, starting to pace. “And it’s to my ultimate shame that I allowed myself to once more be sucked in by you. I’m fucking drunk, and you set me up. You probably even had your little minion Lainey steer T.J. here. At least I’ve been woken up before you could put your hands on me.”

Tom couldn’t believe what had happened. Kat had led him to this room, and he’d listened politely when she’d begun speaking. At some point, she’d started crying, and, ever the gentleman, he’d taken her in his arms to comfort her, and when she’d lifted her face and pressed her mouth to his, his treacherous body had responded instantly.

He drew a deep breath, once again acknowledging to himself that physically, his body wanted hers, the chemistry was as hot as ever. And yet, he distinctly remembered thinking he was actually kissing and pleasuring _T.J._ , and no one else, because _she_ was who his _mind_ wanted now.

“I was happy,” Tom said bleakly. “I don’t know what I ever did to you that you don’t want me to be happy, but, congratulations, your little plot was fruitful.”

Without another glance in her direction, he turned and left her alone in the room, taking out his cell phone and calling T.J. He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t answer, but he had to at least try.

Hurriedly making his way to the main room, he sought out Ben. “Hey, Ben, have you seen my girlfriend, T.J?” he asked, looking hopefully at his host.

“No, I can’t say I have, but she must be here somewhere,” Ben said, looking at Tom curiously.

“Oh, she’s just left,” Lainey said helpfully, having appeared out of nowhere. “You’ve just missed her.”

Tom glared at her. “And of course, you know nothing about that, do you, you pathetic hanger-on?” Tom said venomously. “I’m sure you and Kat set this up between you. Whatever you think you’ll get out of this, I hope you choke on it.”

Smiling sadly at Ben, who just stood there looking bewildered, Tom let himself out of the house, going to his car and getting behind the wheel. He hesitated for a moment, knowing he’d been drinking, but the truth was, he felt very sober now, and as much in despair as he felt, he told himself it would serve him right should he crash his car. He deserved it after the way he had just crashed the dreams of the woman he loved. But, mindful of others, he forced himself to take things slowly. There was very little traffic at this late hour, and he arrived at T.J.’s flat without incident, only to find the place dark, and T.J.’s car gone. And then it hit him, dammit. T.J’.s car was at _his_ house.

He turned his car carefully back around, and headed back the way he’d come, only to have his heart sink when he saw that T.J.’s little jalopy was no longer parked in its accustomed spot at the side of his house. Knowing what he would find, Tom parked the Jag and slowly made his way inside, pausing at his front door and looking over at the lamp post where T.J. had been leaning that very first day, when he’d thought she was a fan girl, before he’d fallen in love with her.

Sadly, he climbed the stairs, going to T.J.’s ‘office,’ confirming what he already knew: all of her polishes, rags, and brushes were gone; the neat rows of lovingly restored shoes mocked him with their beauty. In despair, he crossed the room, making his way down the hall to his own bedroom. When he found T.J’s dress and shoes in his closet, the tears finally started, and silently sobbing, he slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on his closet floor, amongst the shoes that had brought them together, the sequins and beads on T.J.’s dress sparkling in the dim light. Exhausted and dismayed, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift.

He dreamed of T.J. In his dream, she returned to him, telling him that she loved him, forgiving him for his idiocy. He scraped together the courage to tell her of his hopes and wishes for the future. She promised that she’d never leave him. They spoke of their life together, their plans for a family. They married and had six children. They grew old together.

Tom woke with a start, finding himself lying awkwardly on his closet floor, his mind fogged momentarily, wondering what he was doing there. And then he remembered. Fuck, what had he done? He’d stupidly, _stupidly_ allowed Kat to seduce him. He’d gone with her willingly, and his traitorous, drunken body had responded predictably, the way it always had. And T.J. had seen. And all her insecurities had seemingly been confirmed, and she’d ran. And, to make things worse, he had idiotically gotten behind the wheel of his car, and put himself and others at risk.

If you’d have asked him yesterday if he was capable of such inconsiderate, negligent, dangerous behavior, he would have categorically denied it. Now, forced to confront himself and the depths to which he had fallen, he didn’t like what he was seeing.

His body stiff from a night on the floor, he checked his watch and pushed himself to a standing position. It was still too early to go over to T.J.’s, so he changed out of his rumpled suit, putting on his usual jogging clothes, and went for a run. The crisp, cool air cleared his head as he drove his body on and on, harder and faster. As he ran, he resolved to quit drinking, or to at least cut way back, as it was the influence of the alcohol that had lowered his inhibitions in the first place, causing him to react in ways that were totally foreign to his nature.

He developed in his mind a plan of action. He would return to his house, shower, and dress, and go over to T.J.’s flat, throwing himself on her mercy; he’d apologize, and beg her to take him back, and then he would spend the rest of his life, striving to be worthy of her and to make her happy.

After his shower, he dressed carefully. Recalling everything that T.J. had ever said, all the compliments she’d paid him, he put on his navy cords and grey tee shirt – the ancient, semi- transparent one that T.J. swore was so sexy. As a completing touch, he pulled on his worn Ariats. He had always loved the boots, and T.J. confessed that she did too, begging him to be allowed to work on them. And she’d done a wonderful job, of course, even so much as cleaning the decorative stitching, which hadn’t been so white since the day he’d gotten them.

As he climbed into his Jaguar, he noted the slightly crooked way he’d parked the night before, and thought again with relief that it was a miracle that he hadn’t wrapped the car around a pole, run into a wall, or even killed someone. It was an indication of his mental state that he’d been stupid enough to think that he was sober enough to drive, and the shame he felt that morning was overwhelming. Resolving once again to cut back on the drink, and certainly to never, ever, allow himself behind the wheel under the influence again, he drove himself to T.J.’s flat.

His heart sank when he arrived and saw that her little car still wasn’t there. He knew instinctively that she was gone, the dread he felt in the pit of his stomach letting him know more than anything else that he had really, truly messed up this time. What he’d done was unforgivable, and as much as he wanted to rant and scream and tear his hair, blaming Kat, blaming Lainey, blaming the alcohol, he knew that the real blame rested solely on his own shoulders. He had made his choices, and now he was stuck with the consequences. But his inherent optimism refused to die, and he told himself that he could fix this, that he could make amends, and that surely, once T.J. had heard him out, once he’d explained, and apologized, and begged her forgiveness, well, that somehow it would all work out.

He took out his phone and called her. He wasn’t surprised when it went straight to voice mail, and as he heard her recorded voice tell him to leave a message, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

“T.J., um… darling, I know I screwed up. Baby, please, please, just let me explain. Just give me a chance to tell you what happened. It truly wasn’t what if looked like, and I am so sorry that you had to see that, and that I hurt you. Please, baby, call me back, or text me, or email me, or something. Please tell me where you are, and that you’re safe. Please let me come and talk to you. Please, T.J.”

He swallowed hard as he hung up the phone, then decided to send a text message, as well. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but had balked at saying it in a phone message. But the feelings were bubbling up inside of him, and he knew that it was going to burst out of him, and he was having difficulty containing it, and with the situation the way it was right now, he didn’t know if voicing it would help or hurt. But he had to make things right.

[T.J., please talk to me.] he sent.

His phone was silent, and he sat there in his car, willing it to chime, indicating that she had responded. Nothing.

He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, wondering what to do next. He wasn’t the sort of person who could just sit around and wait. Coming to a decision, he got out of the car and made his way over to the landlady’s flat. Mrs. Lassiter was a widow in her sixties, a kindly soul who, bless her, was a fan. He recalled with fondness the way she’d blushed and squealed just like one of his young fangirls the first time he’d met her, after dropping T.J. off at her flat.

Calling upon all of his acting skills, he fixed his face into an open, pleasant grin, and knocked on her door. A few minutes later, it opened, and there was Mrs. Lassiter, beaming at him.

“Why, Tom, what brings you here this morning?” she giggled, blushing once again, her hands fluttering around her face, patting at her hair. “I wanted to thank you again for the autographed photos. It’s made me hugely popular with my grandchildren, who just can’t believe that I actually know Loki; especially my granddaughters.”

Tom laughed softly. “Oh, of course, Mrs. L., it was the least I could do for my very prettiest fan.”

“Oh, away with you, young Tom,” she said, waving her hands at him, blushing even redder. “But what brings you here this morning? Did T.J. forget something?”

Tom hesitated, looking down, pulling the hair at the back of his head. “Uh, yes, about T.J.,” he said. “Um, the thing is, uh, well, the truth is that… well, I screwed up, and I’m afraid we had a fight, and she won’t answer my calls, and I wondered if you knew where she went and when she’ll be back.”

Mrs. Lassiter looked at him in dismay. “Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry, I just assumed that you knew. I even wondered if you were going with her.”

Tom felt a renewed sense of dread and his stomach clenched. “Where did she go?” he gasped.

Mrs. Lassiter looked at him with pity. “Oh, love, she’s gone home to America.”

“Oh, no,” Tom whispered, slumping against the doorpost as he seemed to visibly deflate upon hearing the news. “Did she say… for how long? Is she coming back?” Tom realized that he sounded desperate, but he just couldn’t help it.

Mrs. Lassiter reached up and squeezed his shoulder. “Two or three weeks, she said,” the sympathetic woman said reassuringly. “She said she’d be back in time for the start of the new term at university.”

Tom drew a deep breath. “Oh, thank god,” he said with relief. “I have to get her back, Mrs. L. Will you help me?”

“Oh course I will, dear, anything for my favorite Norse god of mischief!” she said with a grin and a twinkle in her eye. “What did you have in mind?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I’ve thought of a lot: we know Tom is really good at breaking down; we’ve seen him do it a lot. It’s quite convincing. How could you ever know if it was genuine? Anyway, I hope you enjoy…

Chapter 10

When T.J. woke the next morning, for a moment, she was disoriented, confused about where she was and how she’d gotten there. And then she remembered. Tom and Kat, kissing, moaning, and grunting. T.J.’s heart clenched, and she felt tears start again.

So, here she was, back in her old bedroom in her mother’s house in Portland, Oregon USA. She’d put an ocean and a continent between her and Tom, and she still felt him in her heart. She hadn’t really given her mother any explanation for why she had come, but she hadn’t really needed to. Her mother took one look at her red, swollen eyes, and pulled her into a warm hug.

“Come on, dear, let’s get you home,” the older woman said, putting her arm around T.J.’s shoulders and leading her to the car.

Now, T.J. realized that she’d been hasty. This trip had cost her the rest of her savings. She was set for the coming term at university, but now she was going to have to take off the next term again, unless by some miracle she could find another plum job like she’d had, working for Tom. She fleetingly wondered if, when she returned to London, he would consider letting her finish with his bin, maybe even take her back as his regular ´shine. Surely, he would have no hard feelings towards her, it was just a matter of whether she could stand seeing him with Kat every day when she, T.J., was still in love with him… No, she didn’t think she could do it.

Still, she realized that had just run out on him, with no explanation, although she didn’t think he’d been surprised. He _had_ tried to call her, though. Dully curious, she reached over the side of the bed, lifting her purse off of the floor and fishing around for her phone. Hmmm. Two missed calls and a voice mail, plus one text message, all from Tom. The voice mail had come first. T.J. toyed with the idea of simply deleting the thing, but curiosity was too much a part her nature – she knew that if she didn’t listen to it that it would torment her forever. Taking a deep breath, she pressed play. Biting her lip, she listened to Tom’s haunting voice from thousands of miles away.

“T.J., um… darling, I know I screwed up. Baby, please, please, just let me explain. Just give me a chance to tell you what happened. It truly wasn’t what it looked like, and I am so sorry that you had to see that, and that I hurt you. Please, baby, call me back, or text me, or email me, or something. Please tell me where you are, and that you’re safe. Please let me come and talk to you. Please, T.J.”

T.J.’s first reaction was, quite frankly, surprise, and she felt a little niggle of bright hope starting in her heart. Then, she thought about what he’d said. _He screwed up?_ Oh, yeah. _Let him explain?_ What was there _to_ explain? _It wasn’t what it looked like?_ Really? What was it then? _He hurt her?_ Duh. _He wanted to come and talk to her._ She was now across an ocean. Yes, well…

The second reaction, was – understandably, she thought – anger. Finally. She realized that, to this point, she’d been a mealy-mouthed, spineless wimp. Why had she been so accepting? Why had she just rolled over? Why had she just run? Well, she’d been numb, she guessed, and, if she really took the courage to admit it, she’d never really thought that she belonged with Tom in the first place. She was from a different world than he was, and he’d gone out of his way to be charming, to woo her. He’d done his best be seduce her, to convince her, to make her fall in love with him. And now that she had, he did _this? It truly wasn’t what it looked like..._ Really? What the fuck was it, Thomas, if it wasn’t what it looked like? Seething, she queued up and read the text message.

[T.J., please talk to me.]

Gritting her teeth, T.J. hit reply, and started to type.

[Got your voice mail, and your text. It wasn’t what it looked like, huh? Well, Tom, let me tell you what it looked like. It looked like my boyfriend kissing his ex, his tongue down her throat and his hand between her legs under her dress. If that’s not what it was, then please, do tell. Enlighten me.]

Before she could reconsider, she hit send.

Tossing the phone back in her purse, she got out of bed and walked down the hall to the bathroom, taking a shower and brushing her teeth. When she got back to her room, she glanced at her purse, but told herself to forget about it. But, that just wasn’t really going to happen; she had to know. She dug the phone back out, just holding it for a moment before taking it up once more. A new text message, a new missed call, and another voicemail. She opened the text.

[T.J., call me, please. Please, I need to hear your voice.]

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and then listened to the voicemail.

“T.J.,” Tom had said, relief and pain coloring his voice. He sounded broken and exhausted, and T.J. bit her lip as the words poured out of him. “Thank you for at least responding. I can almost hear how you would sound, saying those things to me. And I deserve it, all of it. You have no idea how much I regret that night, how awful and stupid I feel.” He paused, and T.J. knew that he was raking a hand through his hair. After a moment, he continued. “You know that I’d been drinking that night. Well, it was rather a lot, I’m afraid. I’ve always enjoyed alcohol – it’s fun: the loss of inhibitions, the feeling of letting go. This time, well, obviously, it got away from me.”

His recorded voice stopped, and he gave a pathetic sniff, and then… Oh crap, the man was sobbing. “I can’t do this in a recording,” he managed to gasp out between sobs. “T.J., please call me. If you ever cared about me at all, even a little, just, please…”

T.J. sat on her bed, phone in hand, biting her lip, staring into space. He wasn’t playing fair. She knew that Tom was an excellent actor, but she didn’t think that even he could pull off the utter anguish that had just issued from her phone. If she’d ever cared about him… Fuck, she still did.

What she had found with Tom was wonderful, and she’d been deliriously happy. She straightened her spine. She knew that Tom had been happy too. She loved him, she was pretty sure he loved her, too, and what they had together was worth trying to fix. Obviously, Tom was still willing to try. It _was_ worth it, wasn’t it? Both of them had known that it wouldn’t be easy, and T.J. bitterly acknowledged that Tom was always going to have his choice of many other women. A little niggle of doubt started to creep in… would he always choose her? She squashed it down. Right now, he was trying to choose her. Was she going to let him?

Pulling up his number, she hit send.

“T.J.,” Tom said, answering right away, his voice rough. “Is it really you this time? I keep dreaming…”

“Tom,” she said softly. “Yes, it’s me. Um, I’m sorry I ran on you. I just went numb when l saw…”

“I know what you saw,” Tom spat. “Fuck, T.J., I never meant that to happen. I know I told you that my affair with Kat was brief but hot. I’m not proud of it, but hormonally, she still turns me on. Emotionally, the woman’s a black hole, sucking all light out of the universe. If I hadn’t been drunk, it never would have happened.”

“Yes, you mentioned that in your voicemail,” T.J. said, striving to keep her voice even. “Go on, Tom, I’m listening.”

He swallowed audibly, and T.J. could picture him running his hand through his hair. “You know she wanted to have ‘a little talk.’ Well, she lured me into that room, and we were talking. She’s a good actress, I’ll give her that. When she started crying, I went to give her a comfort hug, and then somehow, she kissed me. I won’t lie, I am still attracted to her. My fucking body reacted instantly, and then my drunken mind convinced me somehow that she was you, or I’d never have allowed it to continue for as long as it did.”

There was silence for a while. “Are you done?” T.J. finally asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Tom said softly, his breath still hitching a little.

“How do I know this sort of thing won’t happen again? “ T.J. whispered. “Tom, how can I ever trust you again? “

“Oh, no, T.J., don’t!” Tom said, sudden dread squeezing his whole body. “T.J…”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” T.J. said. And she hung up.

She guessed she wasn’t surprised when her phone rang again immediately. She bit her lip; and tried to ignore it. This was killing her. She loved this man and, obviously, he must still have feelings for her, too; he was being so persistent. But every time she thought that she should just forgive him, she got a flash back of how he’d looked and sounded with Kat at Ben’s party. She clenched her eyes closed tight as tears brimmed over again.

Tom had clearly been crying, too. He’d admitted that he’d been drunk… Dammit, T.J. didn’t know what to do. Tom wanted her back and she… Could she live without him?

Her phone chimed twice in rapid succession: once with the voicemail chime, and then, a few seconds later, the text message alert. T.J. took a deep breath, steeling herself. This time, she would just delete the messages. She would… she…

She read the text message: [Listen to my voicemail, T.J. Please.]

‘Damn you, Tom,’ she thought. ‘Leave me alone!’

But she couldn’t help it; she was compelled. She listened to the fucking thing.

“T.J.,” Tom’s voice began, sounding choked (‘with fresh tears,’ she thought, feeling almost guilty, before she berated herself sternly. Shit, the man was good at this…) “You didn’t give me a chance to say that I’m going to quit drinking. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble giving it up – I don’t think I really have a genuine problem, other than I didn’t like how I lost control of the situation the other night… But if I do have a problem, I’ll go to a program. Whatever it takes, I’ll quit. For you, for us. What happened that night will never happen again.”

He paused, his breathing ragged and hitching, and then, he continued, his voice rough, uneven, and breaking. “T.J., give me another chance. Everyone deserves a second chance. Give me an opportunity to earn your trust again. I know it was hard for you in the first place. I know I’ve fucked up. But, baby, please, I need you in my life. I… don’t think I can stand it if I can’t be with you…” At this point, Tom’s sobs grew uncontrollable, and the recording cut off abruptly.

T.J. sat there, stunned. Was he really this devastated, or was he just acting? She’d seen him break down like this in films; it was very convincing, he was very, very good. But the rational, engineering side of her wondered: why would he _do_ that, if it wasn’t real? What would he have to gain? Clearly, if he wanted Kat, he could have her. But, he said he didn’t _want_ Kat. He _said_ he wanted _her_ , T.J. And he seemed desperate to convince her of it. His grief seemed real. And, she just couldn’t think of any logical reason why he would be pretending.

Because, she knew first-hand how kind he was. She couldn’t help thinking about the systematic way he’d wooed her in the first place. The little gifts, the notes, the tea, the pub, the movie. He’d gone out of his way to show her that he cared. He’d deliberately seduced her senses, making her fall for him. And she’d been pretty sure that he felt the same way about her as she felt about him.

She picked up her phone, idly turning and flipping it in her hands. Damn the man, anyway. She typed the short message quickly, hitting the send button before she could change her mind. Then, leaving the phone on her bed, she went down to breakfast.

Across the Atlantic, Tom was sitting listlessly on his couch, staring into space. His face was sticky with tears, and he had a small, plastic bottle in his hand. It was the painkillers left over from the minor head injury he’d sustained last year. There weren’t many pills left, but he thought that there were maybe enough to get the job done, if he drank enough whiskey with them. If T.J. wouldn’t listen, if she didn’t want him… Well, he just wasn’t sure if there was really even any point in continuing…

He took a deep breath, tossing the bottle onto the table. Shit, he wouldn’t really do anything like that. Fuck. He’d get up in a minute and go for a run. He would. It would do him good. It was only nine o’clock or so – not that late…

He was so deep in his thoughts that when his phone went off, it startled him, and he jumped. His fingers trembling, he reached for it, hesitating just a moment before picking it up, not sure he really wanted to read the text message that he knew was waiting for him. Biting his lip, he opened his phone and brought it up to his face.

[OK.] he read.

“Thank you,” he whispered, a wave of joy sweeping over him. He reached for his iPad, and fifteen minutes later, he had himself booked on a flight leaving the next morning. He pulled himself up from the couch, climbed the stairs to his room, and packed for his trip. Realistically, he could only stay for a week, as the play would be starting, so he packed accordingly, haphazardly stuffing clothing into his smaller wheeled carry-on.

His flight wasn’t until 6:30 am the next day, but he knew he’d never be able to sleep. Biting his lip, he paced around his house, wondering how he would be able to stand the wait. Without even thinking about it, he poured himself a drink, and was just about to take a sip, but when he raised the glass to his lips, the tinkle of the ice cubes reminded him of the sound that T.J’.s coke had made, hitting the floor on that awful night. In his mind, he heard the agonized cry she’d made as she’d bolted from the room, and with a choked sound of disgust, he poured the whiskey down the drain and made himself a cup of tea instead. This, too, reminded him of T.J., but in a good way, and wistfully, he sipped it slowly, thinking of her face, her voice, her laughter, her touch, and all the things they’d said and done. He realized that he would do almost anything to have her back is his arms once more.

He finished the tea, and washed up the dishes he’d used, pulling out his phone and composing an email to Luke, telling him where he was going and how long he’d be gone. Fidgeting, he finally just gave up, and, like T.J. had done just a couple of days ago, he called a cab, deciding to just spend the night at the airport. He double-checked to make sure that he still had the scrap of paper that Mrs. Lassiter had given him, with T.J.’s mother’s address in America written on it.

The flight was uneventful, and just before noon the next day, he was hailing another cab in a city an ocean away. Pulling out the by-now distressed precious piece of paper, he gave the cabbie the address in a voice that shook. His heart raced as the taxi pulled up in front of a large, two story brick-and-wood house, on a quiet street in a pretty neighborhood. He felt unsteady on his feet as he paid the driver and walked the few short steps to the front door. Closing his eyes, he drew several deep breaths, struggling to control himself, then with a hand that trembled, he reached out and pressed the doorbell. He could hear the chiming through the door, and footsteps, and then slowly the door opened.

His stomach dropped, and blinking tears, he bit his lip. “Hello, T.J.,” he whispered in a voice filled with longing.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

T.J. stood, blinking dumbly for a moment, her hand pressed to her mouth. “Tom, what are you doing here?” she finally managed to get out.

Tom reached forward and took her other hand, rubbing his thumb gently over her knuckles. He bit his lip, not meeting her eyes, and then, he raised his devastating, wounded blue gaze to hers. “You said OK,” he said in a barely audible voice. “You said OK, so I came.”

Slowly T.J. pulled her hand out of his, looking at him in shock. “I meant, when I got back to London,” she said dazedly.

“I couldn’t wait…” Tom began, but he was interrupted.

“T.J., I thought I heard the doorbell,” a woman who was clearly T.J.’s mother, said, coming into the room. Curiously, she joined T.J. in the doorway, looking at Tom over her daughter’s shoulder. Instantly summing up the situation, she took T.J. by the upper arms, gently pulling her away from the door. “Aren’t you going to ask your guest in?” she said quietly.

Mutely, T.J. turned, gesturing for Tom to follow her. He came into the room, leaving his suitcase by the door. T.J’.s mother took a seat in a reclining chair, while T.J. sat at one end of a long couch. After a moment, Tom folded his tall frame onto the other end. For a moment, no one spoke. Tom felt the older woman’s scrutiny, then finally he heard her give a little surprised gasp.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you look so familiar,” she said, and Tom could tell she was struggling to keep excitement out of her voice. She turned to look at her daughter. “T.J., how do you know this man?” She turned back to look at Tom. “Is he who…?”

“Mom, this is my boyfr – my _boss_ , Tom,” T.J. tried.

Tom rose to his feet, crossing the room and holding out his hand. “I’m Tom. Tom Hiddleston,” he said as T.J’.s mother took his hand, clasping it warmly for a minute. He stood looking down at her earnestly, before returning to his seat. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Smith. It’s true that I’m T.J.’s boss,” he said quietly, his mouth twisted in wry amusement. “But I’m also her boyfriend. I’m afraid I’ve done something rather stupid, and I’ve come to make it right.”

“Call me Jean,” T.J.’s mother said, blushing rather prettily. “But aren’t you…? Well…”

Evidently, T.J’s. mother was a fan girl. Her daughter looked at her mother in shock. “You know who he is?” she asked, clearly surprised. “ _I_ didn’t even know.”

“It’s so exciting,” Jean said, trying to reign in her enthusiasm, since clearly this man had severely upset her daughter. “King Henry V is in my living room. How did you meet?” She fixed Tom with what he was sure was meant to be a stern look.

Tom bit his lip and raked a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor, his cheeks pink. “I, um, I advertised for a shoe shine who made house calls,” he said, obviously embarrassed. “I…”

“Tom’s an addict. He owns more pairs of shoes than any other hundred people,” T. J. said wryly. “Any other hundred and fifty people. It’s taken me weeks to get them all in order. I had finally gotten a handle on it, when…” her voice trailed off as she remembered why she’d come home.

“I hope you’ll finish them,” Tom said softly, looking at her plaintively. “Your studies obviously come first, of course,” he said. “But I was hoping that you could do them in your spare time. It will be easier once you move in with me.”

T.J. gasped and looked at him sharply. “I don’t even know if I’m still even speaking to you,” she said flatly, blinking at him.

Jean abruptly stood up. “Clearly, you two have things to discuss,” she said, her brows raised curiously. “I’d love the opportunity to talk with you more, Tom, but right now, you have things to work out with T.J. I don’t know where you were planning on staying, since I see your suitcase there, but you can stay with us – we’ve plenty of room, and I’ll hear no arguing. T.J. will show you the guest room. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be out back, working in the garden, if you need me.” And with that, she turned and left the room.

T.J. waited until they’d heard the sound of a sliding glass door opening and closing. Then she turned a stony gaze on Tom. “Move in with you?” she asked woodenly, her brows raised. “Right now, I’m not sure if I even like you. Certainly not enough to move in with you.”

Tom slid across the couch, seizing both of T.J.’s hands and clutching at them desperately. The tears in his eyes brimmed and spilled over again, but he didn’t seem to notice as he clung to T.J.’s hands, his mouth open slightly as he scrambled to find the words to say.

“T.J., you have to,” he pleaded, his voice rasping, his eyes wide. “I’m so in love with you!”

“Oh, Tom,” T.J. whispered, biting her lip. “Are you really?”

While it wasn’t exactly the response Tom had been hoping for, she didn’t pull away, either, and Tom dared to feel a little hope as he tugged on her hands and pulled her closer, hugging her fiercely and burying his face in her hair. “T.J, you know I do,” he murmured in her ear. “You _know_ it.”

T.J. allowed Tom to hold her, resting her cheek on his chest, over the rapid thump of his heart. She still couldn’t believe that he was here, in her mother’s living room, and she wasn’t quite sure what she felt about it.

“How did you find me?” she finally asked.

“It’s always such an honor and a thrill to meet a fan,” Tom said softly. “Like your mum. And Mrs. Lassiter…”

“Mrs. L.!” T.J. groaned, pulling away. “I thought she was on _my_ side!”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that she’s on _our_ side. I told her that we’d fought, that it was all my fault,” Tom said. “And I told her that I love you. And I pretty much gave her your notice…”

T.J. looked at him sharply. “You did what?”

Tom scraped his top teeth over his bottom lip, then got to his feet, turning his back to T.J., pretending to look out the window. “I told her that you wouldn’t need your flat anymore, after we got married and you moved in with me…”

“I’m so hurt that I can barely stand to look at you, and you think I’m going to marry you?” T.J. said, her voice getting louder and louder until she was shrieking. “Are you crazy?”

Tom whirled to face her. “Yes!” he choked out. “Yes, I’m crazy! What’s happened between us is destroying me!” He rushed to T.J., dropping to the floor at her feet, grabbing both of her hands and pressing his face against her knees. “T.J., I love you. These last few months with you have been the happiest of my life. You make me enjoy the simple things. I love my career, but it’s hectic, and it’s totally consumed me. With you, I have the time to breathe…”

T.J. felt her heart melt, and tears rolled silently down her face. She ran her fingers through Tom’s hair, massaging his scalp and loving the soft texture of the curly strands. She took a deep breath, trying to put her thoughts into words. “Tom,” she said hesitantly. “You know that I’m… just folks. I’m nobody. I’m not famous. I’m not glamorous. My family’s not rich. I’m a blue collar American girl, who’s fallen in love with Great Britain. You swept me up, and whirled me away into a world in which I don’t belong. I can never compete with gorgeous girls like Kat… Tom, it was fun, and I’m grateful and excited and amazed that you showed me that fabulous life. But I have no illusions. When I saw you with Kat… Tom, _that’s_ your life. _She’s_ the sort of girl you should be with. Not someone like me. Not _me_ …”

Tom sobbed out loud, and his arms wrapped around T.J.’s waist and tightened almost painfully. He clung to her like a lifeline, and when he spoke, it was in a tear-choked voice that was so low that T.J. had to bend over to hear it.

“No, no, no… T.J., no. I’m tired. I don’t _want_ someone like Kat. I want _you_. I need _you_. With you, I don’t have to pretend. I can just… be me. I can come home from a day at work, like any other normal man, and find my love, at home, for me. She doesn’t need a bunch of _things_ , or parties, or constant stimulation and entertaining. She’s happy with a bunch of wildflowers, or a box of sweets, or homemade biscuits, or a night at the movies. I can make her tea, and leave her little notes, and once in a while, spoil her with a new dress. I can see the future. And it’s her. T.J., it’s _you_ …” He raised his head from her lap, looking at her with such wistfulness and hope, his wet eyes huge in his earnest face. “Please, T.J.”

T.J. took a deep breath, then patted the couch cushion next to her. Tom rose and took the seat, pulling her into his arms and just holding her, his tears falling into her hair. T.J. pulled away and cupped his face, looking into his eyes for a moment. Her mouth curved up softly at the sincerity she saw there, and she pressed her lips to his for a moment.

Tom’s stomach dropped and his heart raced, and once again, his arms tightened almost to the point of pain. “You realize that I’m never going to let you go, don’t you?” he said quietly, pressing her against his chest, one hand cradling the back of her head, his face buried in her hair. “I’m going to marry you, and we’re going to have six children, and we’ll grow old together. We’re going to be deliriously happy together, and I’m going to give you everything that you’ve ever wanted.”

T.J. began to shake, and it took Tom a moment to realize that she was laughing. “What?” he said, pulling away and looking at her.

T.J. gently caressed Tom’s face, then brushed his hair back from his forehead. “You’re too old for me,” she said softly, with the barest hint of a smile. “And I don’t think I want six kids. I think it’s too early to talk about marriage, and I’m still not sure that I trust you, after what happened with Kat….”

Tom bit his lip and held his breath. “But?” he asked.

T.J. didn’t look happy about it, as she said, “But, I’m in love with you. God help me.”

Tom closed his eyes and pulled her back into his embrace.

Their week together in Portland flew by. T.J. took Tom to all the touristy places that she could think of. They bodysurfed in the Pacific Ocean, and rode down the Alpine Slide on Mt. Hood. They roller skated at Oaks Park (Tom was, not surprisingly, extremely graceful and quite good at it), toured Pittock Mansion, rode the tram, and visited the Zoo. They look a jet boat ride and played at OMSI. Throughout it all, they held hands and cuddled, kissing chastely. Tom took cold showers every day, as he banked his passion and wooed his love with tenderness.

On the last day before Tom had to leave, T.J. realized that it would be wrenching to let him go. She had planned to stay in Portland for two more weeks, but now, the thought of being away from Tom for that long was causing her near-panic. She realized that Tom didn’t have a choice; he had to go back to London. The opening of ‘The Taming Of The Shrew’ was next week, and he had already been away from rehearsals for far too long. That mere fact – that he would take time off from a project that T.J. _knew_ was important to him, to spend that much time with _her_ – told her, more than any of his words, exactly how much she meant to him. And she couldn’t deny that she was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him.

But as hard as it would be, she knew that they needed this time apart. It would be a test. _She_ needed it, if she was ever to totally move on from her hurt, and trust him again. Filming on the next Thor movie would begin soon, and he would be gone for _months_ – nearly half the year. If they couldn’t endure two _weeks_ apart, how could they possibly survive something like _that_?

So on their last night in Portland together, T.J. wanted to connect with Tom on a closer level, and she wanted reassurance for them both, that he would be waiting for her when she returned to London in two weeks. This time, she had left _him_ ; next time, it would be the other way around. She had left _him_ full of doubts; when he left for his next film project, he would be leaving _her_ , with the knowledge that she would be there for him, loving him and waiting for him.

Once more borrowing her mother’s car, T.J. felt excited and scared at what she had planned. She took Tom to her favorite barbeque restaurant, where she took great pleasure in watching how much he enjoyed his meal of beef brisket and boiled pinto beans. By the time they were finished eating, it was beginning to get dark, and T.J. was starting to reconsider what she had wanted to do. She decided to cut the evening short and just head for home. She felt a bit guilty, but she was still too afraid to risk her heart.

“I don’t want to go home tomorrow,” Tom said softly, resting his hand on her knee as she drove. “How am I supposed to bear being away from you? You still don’t know whether to trust me or not, and I’m afraid…”

His words touched her someplace deep inside, and, turning the car around, T.J. decided to go back to her original plan, negotiating the twisting, climbing streets until they arrived at a beautiful park that was perched at the very top of a hill. The lights of the city were spread out around them in a twinkling panoply, and Tom sighed, taking in the view.

“This is breathtaking, T.J.,” Tom said softly.

“This is called Council Crest, and people have been coming here for generations to watch the ‘submarine races,’” T.J. said with a smirk that Tom almost missed in the dim light.

“Submarine races?” he asked, he brows raised in curiosity.

“It’s a euphemism,” T.J. said, her voice laced with amusement. “This is a parking and make-out spot.” She unfastened her seatbelt and turned towards him, raising one hand to caress his cheek before running her fingers through his hair. She moved closer to him, tipping her face back and peering up at him.

Holding her breath, she whispered, “Kiss me, Tom.”


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Tom reached for T.J. with trembling hands. He lightly stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek, then, cupping her chin gently, he pressed his lips to hers. This kiss was soft and fleeting, tentative, and then he withdrew. T.J. just sat there for a moment, her eyes closed, head tipped back, waiting, until finally, she made a quiet sound of frustration and looked at Tom through the dim light.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she said quietly. “Tom…”

Tom drew a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out in a sigh. “T.J., I don’t want to screw this up. You mean too much to me; I can’t lose you now. I’m afraid…” He paused, running his hand through his hair. He turned in his seat, to more fully face her, and took her hand, interlacing their fingers. “I’m afraid I’ll scare you, push you away… I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

T.J. squeezed his hand, then leaned forward, letting her head rest on his chest. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her voice, when she spoke, was low and muffled, but Tom heard it plainly. “You’re going home to London tomorrow, and I won’t see you for two weeks. You’ll be busy with your play, and you won’t have time to even think of me, let alone to miss me. Whilst I shall be stuck here, thinking of you and missing _you_ …”

Her mouth found his unerringly in the dark, and after a moment, Tom felt her tongue. He opened for her and soon, their tongues met in a dance as old as time. Tom made a sound half way between a sob and a groan, and his arms tightened around her as her as he crushed her to him, his mouth hungry. Restless, his hands caressed her as he kissed her, cupping her face, before slipping through her hair, running down her back, kneading her shoulders, sliding down her arms to clutch at her fingers, until finally, one hand brushed lightly across her breast, and T.J. sucked in a breath and broke the kiss. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing heavily.

“I want you so much,” T.J. whispered. “I ache for you.”

Before Tom realized what she was doing, T.J. had scrambled across the central console of the car, her knees straddling his hips on the passenger seat. She could feel his erection through his jeans and she ground herself against it, whimpering when she felt it throb in response. She kissed him again, her hands resting on his hips.

Tom tried to hold back, but T.J. made a sound of protest and fisted his hair in both hands. She pulled his face back til she could look directly into his eyes. “I want this, I want you,” she snapped. “Now stop resisting me and kiss me, dammit. I intend to have you tonight in this car, so just go with it. I’m going to make sure that you have something to remember, something of me to long for, when you are back home without me for these next two weeks!”

Tom drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Whatever you want, T.J.,” he said in a weary, tortured voice. “I’m so in love with you, I want to give you everything. I never want to feel again, the way I felt that night when I came to my senses and saw you leaving, when I heard your glass hit the carpet and the sound you made. Those last couple of days, before coming here, were absolute hell, and I never, ever want to experience anything like it ever again. So, I will do whatever you ask of me. Anything. You own me, T.J. I’m yours. Do with me as you will.”

“Oh, Tom,” T.J. said, tears spilling down her face. “I just want you to love me…” Cupping his face in both hands, T.J. brought her mouth to his, and finally, something in Tom seemed to snap. His mouth was ravenous as he kissed her; his hands were desperate. He caressed her breasts over her clothes, and finally, making a frustrated sound deep in his throat, he slipped his hands under her shirt, his hands warm against her skin as he slid them around her back, unclasping her bra. Lifting it out of the way, he bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard enough to be just this side of painful, and T.J. cried out, her head tipping back and her hands still clutching at his hair. He nuzzled his face against her ear, licking, sucking, and nipping. He ran his hands down her back, then slipped them up her thighs under her skirt, until he found the waistband of her panties.

His face pressed against hers, and, his voice shaky, he muttered, “You’ve gotten your wish. I’m going to take you now, and it’s going to be fast and it’s going to be rough. I can’t hold back now, T.J., you’ve totally destroyed whatever control I might have had… “

His hands fumbled with his belt buckle and the fastening of his jeans, and then T.J. felt his erection, seeking her, hot and hard, through the thin fabric of her panties. She felt Tom struggling for control, his teeth gritted, jaw clenched. He looked at her, his gaze so hot she wondered why she wasn’t consumed in flames. She lifted up onto her knees, and then, pulling her panties to the side, she slid down onto him, impaling herself, all the while holding his eyes with hers.

“Fuck, T.J.,” Tom groaned, “you’re so tight and wet.”

T.J. sat still for a minute, relishing the sensation of him throbbing inside her, until it got to be too much for Tom.

“Move!” he ground out, and, intoxicated by the power she held, T.J. slowly pulled up, and then sank back down again.

Tom growled and grabbed her hips, holding her up while he frantically thrust up into her, his pace speeding up. “I’m going to come, T.J.” he warned. “I don’t think you’re ready.”

“You’re wrong,” T.J. gasped, her internal muscles contracting rhythmically as she climaxed around him. With a wordless shout, Tom joined her, holding her tightly while he emptied himself deep inside her. She collapsed forward, resting her head on his shoulder, and his arms came around her, tightening convulsively.

“You’re mine, T.J.,” Tom murmured. “I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

“I’m taking you to the airport tomorrow,” T.J. said. “And then, I’ll be home in two weeks, in time for the start of the term. This week, we’ll call, and text, maybe even facetime. You’ll miss me, and I’ll miss you. And when we see each other again, it will be…”

“Overwhelming,” Tom murmured. “Can I ask you a question?” Still inside her, he nuzzled his nose against hers, his hand running down her back in a caress. Gradually, he softened and slipped out, but T.J. stayed straddling his lap.

“What?” T.J. said, her fingers stroking through his hair as she cuddled against him.

“Do you really think I’m too old for you?” he asked quietly. “You said that the other day, and it’s been bothering me ever since.” Tom felt himself tense, waiting for her answer.

T.J. hesitated, then let out a sigh. “Six months ago, I would have said yes. If you weren’t who you are, and so incredibly drop-dead gorgeous, I wouldn’t have even looked at you. Nine years older than I…” She paused, swallowing audibly, then continued. “But now, I’m so in love with you, and I guess I’m investing in you… I’ll make it work, somehow…”

“It doesn’t bother _me_ ,” Tom said softly. “Other than…” He paused, pulling away slightly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m ready, T.J. When I said I wanted you to move in with me, I meant it. I…”

“What, Tom?” T.J. froze, sensing that what he was going to say would be profound. “Do I want to hear this?”

Tom drew in a breath, held it for a bit, then let it out slowly. “T.J.,” he whispered. “Um, we didn’t use anything…”

T.J. went cold all over and pulled away from him. “Shit shit shit!”

“Shh,.,” Tom said soothingly, pulling her back into his arms, smoothing his hand over her hair, kissing her brow and nuzzling her forehead. “I was serious about marrying you, T.J. I intend to. If you don’t want six children, we can negotiate that…”

“Oh, Tom,” T.J. said, relaxing into his embrace. “It’s too soon…”

“I know,” he said. “But, if… well, we’ll just keep it in mind, for if… well, you know…”

“I do love you, Tom,” T.J. murmured. “I… Thank you.”

***

“I don’t know how I can bear to be apart from you for two weeks. Especially after last night,” Tom said, holding T.J. tightly, his face buried in her hair. “I know it’s too soon to know…”

T.J. eased a little away from him, reaching up to brush her fingertips over his face. “I should know by the time I get back to London,” she said quietly. “I promise, no secrets. I’ll keep you totally informed. And Tom, I would never…” she paused, resting her head against his chest, before pulling back and looking up into his eyes. “I’m not really ready to have a baby, but if that’s what happens… well, I wouldn’t… I would never do anything…”

Tom sighed a little in relief. “I didn’t think you would, but thank you for saying it. We’ll deal with whatever happens together.” He bit his lip, looking down, before looking back up at her. “You know, I almost hope that you are…”

“Tom!” T.J, said, pulling away. “You know I’m not ready! How can you wish that on me?”

Tom pursed his lips, not able to meet her eyes. “You’d never leave me then,” he whispered.

Wordlessly, T.J. shook her head, reaching up and hugging him tightly. After a moment, she pulled back enough that she could look him in the eyes. She reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead. “You’ll miss your plane. I suppose you’d better go,” she said. “I’ll miss you.”

Tom looked at her, blinking, and a single tear escaped down his face. “I love you. T.J. Don’t forget it, don’t doubt it. I’ll never do anything to hurt you ever again. I swear. I promise.”

“I love you, too, Tom,” T.J. said. “I’ll try…”

Taking his shoulder bag and his carry on, Tom turned and went through the revolving door and into the bustling airport. He turned for one last look at her through the full-length window, raising a hand in farewell, then blowing her a kiss. T.J. returned the gesture, and then, turning, she got back into the car and drove away.

***

Tom got back to London to more than one storm. He had given the play’s producer very little notice before going to America, and it was only his well-known skill and work ethic that prevented him from being in the proverbial dog house now. He went straight to the theater and spent the next seven hours in intense rehearsal. When they wrapped up, the other players all slapped him on the back, and the director shook his head, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t know how you do it, Tom, but you’re amazing. I was so seriously angry with you, and yet this is going to be just fine. I hate telling you this, hate admitting it, but you, right now, having been totally gone for the last week, are in better shape than anyone else involved in this production after this last week of intense rehearsal. Fuck you, Tom.” He turned and walked away, still shaking his head, but grinning in spite of it.

And Tom didn’t know why it surprised him, and why he’d never thought of it, but it didn’t take him too long to figure out that he was in serious trouble with Luke. The man stormed into Tom’s house, a bundle of tabloids under his arm, and slammed them down on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know what to think, Tom!” he said, spreading the papers out so that all the headlines were exposed, and Tom cringed reading them. They ran the gamut from proclaiming him back together with Kat, to having a mystery girlfriend, and everything in between. Tom bit his lip, looking down. He forced himself to meet Luke’s eyes. “So, which is it? And when were you going to tell me?” Luke asked, in an exasperated voice.

Reaching out, Tom picked up a paper that had a photo of him and T.J. outside of the movie theater, with a headline that speculated about a mystery woman. As he gazed at it, he realized that he was sporting a goofy grin; he couldn’t help it. Wordlessly, he held it out towards Luke. “This was our first real date,” he finally said.

Luke barely glanced at it, but Tom thought that the younger man’s stance softened a bit. “And the stuff about Kat?” Luke asked, still sounding angry.

“Utter crap,” Tom said disgustedly. “This story was probably something she and her own people cooked up. She tried her hardest to break up me and T.J.”

“T.J.? “ Luke asked, surprised now. “Isn’t that the name of the boot black you hired?”

Tom bit his lip. and suddenly, he couldn’t meet Luke’s eyes. “Yes, it’s her,” he confessed quietly. “I should have told you that we were dating.”

“Well, yeah, Tom, you should have,” Luke answered, equally quietly. “Especially since, obviously, you’ve been seen. How long have you been seeing each other? And is it serious?”

“Come in and sit down,” Tom said, leading the way into the living-room. “It’s a long story. I’ll make tea and tell you all about it.”


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

With Tom back in London, T.J. found that the days positively dragged. They kept in touch by constantly sending little texts throughout the day, and they both woke up to text messages that the other had left while they slept; T.J. found that it made getting up in the morning that much better, and quite a bit easier.

Tom also insisted on calling her every night before he went to sleep. With the eight hour time difference, that meant that it was mid-afternoon for T.J., so she made sure she was alone and some place she could talk at that time every day. She could hear the weariness in Tom’s voice, but she looked forward to their brief conversations so much, that she never dreamed of telling him not to call, his soft words and gentle tone telling her so much more than the mere language alone. Her heart healed a little more every day, while her longing for him increasing proportionately.

By the time a week had gone by, both of them were absolutely miserable, and T.J. could hear the strain in Tom’s voice, a sound that she knew mirrored her own. He sounded tired, sad, and lonely, and, while T.J. knew that some of that was due to the intense rehearsals, as the play he was starring in would open in a little more than a week, she knew that most of his stress and exhaustion came from being separated from her. She knew this for certain, of course, because she felt exactly the same way.

On what was late Friday afternoon for T.J., almost early evening, Tom called for his usual daily call.

“Oh, T.J., it’s so incredibly good to hear your voice,” he said wearily. “Honestly, I don’t know how much more of this I can stand.”

“Tom, it’s only been a week,” T.J. said, trying to keep it light and to sound amused, but knowing that she probably sounded as drained as he did. “If we’re having issues being apart for a couple of weeks, imagine how difficult it’s going to be when you’re away for months on your next big film project.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, before Tom took a gasping breath, and then whispered desperately, “I won’t be able to do it, T.J. You’ll have to come with me. There’s just no way…”

“Tom, I’ll be in term at university,” T.J. said, striving to sound practical, but aware that she was failing catastrophically.

“Can’t you take classes remotely?” Tom said, with a little bit of a whine. “On-line, or something?”

“Maybe,” T.J. said quietly. “I guess that’s worth looking into. It _would_ be so much better if I could be with you…”

Tom sighed. “I was hoping we could maybe facetime tomorrow,” he said earnestly. “I’d really like to see you, T.J.”

His voice had dropped an octave, and T.J. shivered as she actually felt it in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Yes,” she said on a sigh. “Oh, yes, please. What time?”

“How about two your time?” Tom said eagerly. “That’s ten for me. I hope I can wait that long.”

“OK, Tom,” T.J. agreed. “It will be so wonderful to see you.”

“Yes,” Tom whispered. He bit his lip. “T.J., I have to go. I have rehearsal early in the morning.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “I love you, Tom. It can’t be two o’clock tomorrow soon enough…”

“Me, too,” Tom said quietly. “I love you, T.J. Good night.”

“Good night, Tom,” T.J. echoed.

The next day was Saturday, and T.J. couldn’t wait for it to be two o’clock. She fidgeted around the house, and finally, her mother looked at her exasperatedly.

“T.J., what’s up with you today?” she finally asked, eyeing her speculatively. “You’re as antsy as a bee in a beer bottle.”

“Oh, mom, Tom and I are going to facetime at two, and of course I can’t wait. I miss him so much,” T.J. admitted. Her mother was familiar with the facetime procedure, having used it to speak with her own sister, T.J.’s aunt, several times over the course of the year.

Jean smiled at her daughter now. “Well, you haven’t long to wait,” she said indulgently. “Why don’t you run out to the store for the makings for supper, and by the time you get back, it should be nearly time.”

She was right, so T.J. pulled on her favorite hoodie, got her mother’s keys, and drove herself to the local supermarket. She pushed a cart around, gathering up the ingredients for homemade pizza, and, just as her mom had said, by the time she had paid for her purchases, loaded them into the car, driven home, unloaded the car, and unpacked and put away everything, it was five minutes to two o’clock. T.J. grinned at her mom as she scooped up her iPad and headed for her bedroom. She settled down on her bed and waited for Tom.

He too was a couple of minutes early. Tears pricked T.J’s eyes when she first saw his dear face on the screen, and she was amused and pleased when she noticed that his cheeks appeared damp as well. Her stomach dropped, and she felt, in that moment, and she would love him until the day that she died.

“Hello, T.J., love,” Tom said softly, from across the ocean. “God, I miss you.” He swallowed hard, and ran a hand through his hair.

“I miss you, too,” T.J. said, trying to smile. “How’s it going? What are you up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Tom said, not even wanting to blink, he felt so starved for the sight of her. “The play opens this next weekend, and we’ve been spending between seven and ten hours per day putting the finishing touches on it. I’m still just a bit behind, because of all the time I took off, but the director is pleased with me, although I know that my understudy feels more than ready, and is probably praying that I get hit by a bus or something.”

T.J. laughed in spite of show gruesome that sounded. “I’m sure that’s not true,” she said, grinning.

“Oh it’s true!” Tom said, laughing. He paused, and there was an awkward silence. After a minute, he continued, his voice quiet. “T.J., I miss you so much. Please say you’re coming back to me. I’ve been as good as my word: I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since that… just… with you so far away, I need some reassurance here.”

T.J. sighed. “I wish I could touch you,” she whispered. “I miss you, too, Tom, and I still have a job to do.” She looked at his handsome, tragic face on her iPad screen, so familiar and earnest, so hopeful, his love reaching out to her so strongly that she could physically feel it wrapping around her, and her last doubt melted away. “I’ll be back. I need to finish polishing the shoes!”

Tom’s lips twitched, and she could see him fighting it, but a smile crept over his face, and then he was laughing. “Oh, T.J., I love you so much. This week can’t pass fast enough for me! I need to see you. I need to hold you.”

“I love you, too, Tom,” T.J. said softly. “I don’t think I realized quite how much until just now.”

***

When T.J. finally rejoined her mother in the TV room, it was time to think about making the pizza. Both women got up and went to the kitchen, working in companionable silence to put their meal together. Finally, Jean finished tossing the green salad, then stood facing T.J., hands on her hips.

“You should go home to that boy,” she said quietly, in a no-nonsense voice. “I can see how much you want to, how much you love him and miss him, how you pine for him.” She stopped, walking over to T.J. and putting both hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “We’ve had a good visit. It was a lovely surprise and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, but we both know that you came here to put distance between you and him, and at this point, you’re only torturing the both of you. It’s obvious that he’s in love with you, equally obvious that you’re in love with him. T.J., go home. Go and be with that boy. Put both of you out of your misery.”

“Oh, mom, you’re right,” T.J. burst out. “You’re so, so right. Why did I not know how smart you are? I need to be with Tom. I can’t be happy if I’m not…”

“Go home, T.J.” Jean whispered,

T.J. hugged her mother tightly, then pulled away, looking fondly at the older woman. Her lips twitched as she said, “Mom, I thought I was home, when I came here…”

“When you came here, maybe this _was_ home,” the wise woman who was T.J.’s mother said, with a sweet smile, “but now, really, I think not. For you, T.J., home is where that boy is. Tom is your home now…”

T.J. just nodded and hugged her mother again.

After supper, they sat in the TV room watching Jean’s Saturday shows, and T.J. got her iPad and booked herself a flight to London, leaving the very next day. She would arrive in London at mid-morning on Monday, and now that it was settled, she felt strangely content. Her mother had told her to ‘go home,’ and as they sat together in what was T.J.’s _childhood_ home, she knew that her mother was right: London had become her home, because that was where Tom was.

The flight from Portland to London was long, but uneventful. T.J. hadn’t taken much with her in the first place, and hadn’t had to check any luggage, so she simply retrieved her carryon from the overhead bin, and made her way from the jet to the taxi stand. Tom didn’t know that she was here, and she wondered how long it would be before she could see him. It was not quite ten o’clock on Monday morning, and she figured he’d be at the theater, rehearsing most of the day, as the play was set to open that Friday night.

As T.J. climbed into a cab, she gave the driver the address to her flat. May as well go unpack her small bag and check in with Mrs. Lassiter. She settled back into the seat of the taxi, relaxing as she took in the familiar sights and smells of London, Yes, this was home, and it dawned on her that she was more than happy to be back, although at this point, she wasn’t sure what the next step was. She reached into her purse for her wallet, to get money to pay for the cab ride, and as she pulled her keys out of the way, she laughed out loud when she realized that she still had the key to Tom’s house, and suddenly, she knew what she needed to do.

She rang the bell, and her landlady answered the door right away. “Oh, T.J.,” Mrs. Lassiter said, pulling her into a big hug, patting her on the back. “I wasn’t expecting you for another week, but I’m glad you’re back. Poor Tom has been longing for you so.”

“Yes, thank you for giving him my mom’s address,” T.J. said, with just a touch of wryness. “I _was_ going to stay another week, but I missed London.”

“Well, it is good to see you dear,” Mrs. Lassiter said distractedly, “but I’m afraid you’ve just caught me on my way, off to an afternoon out with my granddaughters, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Of course, Mrs. L.,” T.J. said, stepping back out of the doorway. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know that I was back.”

“I’m so glad,” Mrs. Lassiter said, moving past T.J., patting her shoulder and closing her door. “We’re meeting for lunch and a film, and so I’m off. You should find everything in order at your flat. To… um, that is, _I’ve_ been looking out for your place, dear.”

“Of course you have,” T.J. said. “I’d never doubt it for a moment. I don’t need anything right now, so you go have a wonderful time.”

“Thank you, T.J.,” the older woman said, and with that, she bustled down the walkway to her car.

T.J. watched her hurry away for a moment, a little dazed. She hoped that she could have that kind of energy and enthusiasm when she was that age! She smiled to herself, and headed for her own flat, digging out her keys, once more grinning at the idea that she still had the one to Tom’s house. She let herself in to her own small place, then stood for a moment, just grateful to be home.

Her plan was to shower and change into work clothes, unpack her bag from her trip, and then head over to Tom’s house to work on shoes from the bin. She wanted to be there for him when he got home, to surprise him. She couldn’t wait to see him, but knew that he was most likely in rehearsal, and she didn’t want to distract him by letting him know she was home, when he couldn’t in actual fact, do anything about it. Plus, it felt fun to truly surprise him, as he wasn’t expecting her for nearly a week.

Thinking that a cup of tea would be nice, she left her luggage in the entryway and went into her small kitchen. The sight that greeted her had her reaching for the wall for support. The flat surface of her small dining table was absolutely covered with things, and T.J. forgot to breathe for a moment as she approached it haltingly. Evidently, it hadn’t been Mrs. L. who’d been keeping an eye on T.J.’s place after all. The table was buried in dozens of little gifts, from sweets, to a little stuffed dog, a small box of her favorite tea, and a bottle of expensive perfume. There appeared to be a gift for every day that T.J. had been gone, over a dozen in all, and each was accompanied by a small, folded note.

T.J. reached for the first one with shaking fingers. It was a dried wildflower arrangement in a small vase, beautiful in its simplicity. T.J. fumbled to unfold the note that was with it. It was dated the day after she had left for America, and T.J.’s throat felt tight when she detected what she thought were probably tear stairs on the paper. Short and to the point, the words, written unsteadily in Tom’s looping hand, simply read, ‘I love you, T.J. –Tom.’

The gifts seemed to be in order, almost like a calendar, and T.J. recognized when the paper changed to that from the little notebook that Tom habitually carried, and realized that some of the notes had actually been written while he had been with her in Portland. The tenor of the messages went from sad, to hopeful once he had come to America, to joyful after he had returned to London, although she could sense his longing for her, and she was filled with a tender wonder at the depth of feeling that reached out to her from the thoughtfully penned missives.

As she read hastily through all of the words that Tom had written, she fell more and more in love with him. The last note, which was dated that very day, was in the form of a card, and she took a deep breath as she opened it. The gift for that day was tucked into the envelope: a front row seat ticket to the opening night of ‘The Taming Of The Shrew’ at the Donmar that coming Friday.

“I don’t even know if you’ll be back in time,” Tom had written, “but all I can do is hope. Every day I love you more, and I yearn for the day that I can make you mine. 

‘… you shall be my wife, your dowry ‘greed on,

And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. Never make denial…

I must and will have T.J.! to my wife.’

Love, your Tom.”

T. J. blinked tears as she re-read the note; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she pressed the card to her heart. Abandoning her suitcase in the hall, she rushed to her bedroom, quickly changing into work clothes, then grabbing up her work bag, she rushed back out to her kitchen, scooping up her purse, in a hurry to get to Tom’s house. Even though he wouldn’t be there for hours, she longed to be closer to him, and working with the shoes would actually be a joy, and would help to pass the time.

As she got ready to leave her flat, on a whim she grabbed the handle of her suitcase. It still contained her travel toiletries and some clean clothes, and, if T.J. got her most precious wish, she wouldn’t be returning to this flat tonight! Grinning to herself, she practically flew back to her car, and was soon on her way to Tom’s. To her heart.

To her home.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I think this is the last chapter for this one! Maybe a little epilogue to tie any loose ends? What do you all think? Let me know if you need more of Tom and T.J. I would entertain ideas! Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 14

Tom pulled his Jaguar into its usual parking spot and turned off the ignition. He rested his head, eyes closed, against his hands on the steering wheel for a moment or two, almost too weary to even move. Drawing a deep breath, he told himself to take his keys and get out of the car. He didn’t know how he was going to survive another week without T.J. Rehearsals had ramped up, the schedule was brutal, and he was so lonely for the touch of a certain sassy American girl, that he could hardly drag himself out of bed in the morning.

As he walked the short distance to his front door, keys in hand, forcing himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, he felt something nagging at the back of his mind. What was it? What? A beat up, rusty old car was parked where… Tom forgot to breathe: T.J.’s jalopy was parked where she always used to park it. Oh god oh god… He was afraid to hope. How could it be? Torn between wanting to rush to see if it were true, and being afraid to jinx it, Tom chose the latter, and let himself into the house as quietly as he could. He stood in the entryway, head cocked to the side, listening for a moment, but didn’t really hear anything. He swallowed hard, then turned and went into the kitchen.

It had to be a coincidence, it couldn’t possibly really be her car, he told himself, as he turned the kettle on, trying to tamp down the hope he felt bubbling up inside. But, just in case, he found himself getting down two cups from the cupboard. He took out the tray and the rest of the tea things, having to settle for store-bought biscuits, not having had the energy to bake any himself since she’d been gone. Then, he hovered over the stove, turning off the burner before the whistling started, for some reason that he couldn’t fathom, still trying to be as quiet as possible.

Picking up the tray, and moving quickly now, he took the stairs two at a time, still managing not to make any sound, the anticipation causing him to hold his breath. He practically crept down the hall to the open door of T.J.’s ‘office.’ He paused just outside the entrance, swallowing hard, and then, squaring his shoulders, he walked forward into the little room.

T.J. knelt on the floor, the left of a pair of black brogued, wingtip derbys held in her left hand, the buffing brush in her right. She was in mid-swing, and so intent on her job that she didn’t notice him at first. Tom swallowed past the lump in his throat, closing his eyes as he felt tears start. The tray rattled as he set it down on the small table, and it was that sound that finally drew T.J.’s attention. The shoe and brush dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers, and she lifted up on to her knees, staring at him hungrily, swaying slightly towards him yearningly.

“Tom,” she whispered achingly.

Tom stood still for a moment, afraid to move, afraid to _breathe_ , afraid that he had finally lost it totally. He closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, she was still there, her arms held out towards him longingly. He flew to her then, dropping to the floor beside her. He reached out with hands that trembled, hardly daring to touch her, still not absolutely sure that this wasn’t a nightmare sent to taunt him, until finally grabbing her and crushing her to him, his left arm wrapping around her shoulders, the fingers of his right skimming over her cheek to tangle in her hair, grasping gently and tipping her head as he lowered his lips to hers.

“T.J., you’re here,” he whispered on a sob, just before losing all semblance of control.

Mouths hungry, they devoured each other, their teeth clashing together in their desperation to get closer. Both of them were equally driven, and their hands clutched and tore at clothes, frantic to feel skin on skin after so long. T.J. clutched a handful of short, blond curls, before grabbing Tom’s shirt and ripping it open, not even registering when the buttons went flying. Tom plucked at her tee shirt feverishly, until T.J. pulled away just far enough for him to drag it over her head. He pulled her back into his arms, reaching behind her to unfasten her bra clasp, then frantically ripping the straps off her arms.

“I need you, T.J.,” he gasped out between hungry kisses, his hands everywhere. “Tell me you feel the same. If you want me to stop, I think it will kill me!”

“Fuck you, Tom!” she panted, her hands fumbling with his belt buckle. “If you stop, I’ll kill you myself!” She made a little sound of triumph as his belt unfastened, then she moved on to the button and zipper of his trousers. Reaching in through the opening she stroked his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs, and Tom groaned and bucked his hips into her hand.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he managed to say. “I’m not going to last very long the first time…”

His hands had meanwhile managed to unfasten her jeans, and he paused in his frantic kissing to drag them, along with her lacy knickers, down her legs. He tore her shoes and socks off, then finished peeling off her jeans until she lay on the floor beside him, naked. He sat up, resting back on his heels, drawing deep breaths and gazing lustfully down at her body.

“Oh. T.J.,” he said, almost reverently. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve missed you so much.”

He leaned over her, cupping one breast in his hand and sucking the nipple of the other into his mouth. She moaned and grabbed at his hair, wrapping it around her fingers and pulling gently. She gasped when he parted her moist folds and inserted two fingers into her opening, his skilled hand instantly finding her g–spot at the same time as his thumb caressed her clit rhythmically.

T.J.’s head rolled side to side as Tom continued to finger-fuck her. “Tom, stop,” she said. “I don’t want to come this way. I want you inside me.” She’d successfully freed him from his trousers, and she stroked him slowly now, loving the velvet, hot softness of his skin over his rigid length.

Tom pulled back now, suddenly remembering the last time that they were together. “T.J., are you…?” he asked hesitantly, some of his urgency evaporating with the sobering thought that she might be carrying his child at that very moment.

T.J. froze, understanding instantly what he was asking. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s still too soon to tell, and I haven’t taken a test yet.”

Tom kissed her again, his palms brushing over her taut nipples, his mouth seemingly drawn to hers like a magnet, but the frantic-ness had been effectively dispelled. He rose to his feet, squatting down and hoisting her up and over his shoulder.

“Tom!” she squealed, laughing and swatting at his naked butt as he carried her across and down the hall to his bedroom. He dumped her unceremoniously onto the middle of his bed, opening his bedside drawer and pulling out a foil package “Might as well be safe, in case you’re not,” he murmured, pulling open the package.

“Let me,” T.J. said softly, reaching out for it, and after a moment, Tom relinquished it into her hand, coming closer so that she could reach him. Her hands brushed and stroked him teasingly as she rolled the condom down over his hard shaft. She grabbed at his hand, pulling him towards her. “I’m ready, Tom,” she said pleadingly. “Please make love to me.”

Tom’s stomach dropped, and he sank down on to the bed, his mouth fused to hers once more. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into position, his hips nestling between her thighs, his sheathed cock pulsing against her wet core, the head nudging against her clit so that she moaned at each pulse. She reached between them, taking him in hand and lining them up, and with a tilt of his pelvis and a clench of his arse, he entered her smoothly. He held himself still for a moment, just savoring the pleasure of once more being inside her, not sure which sensation was the most powerful: the physical pull of her warm, moist channel tightening around him as she deliberately flexed her inner muscles; or the overwhelming love that he felt for her: the flash of his future – all of his tomorrows, his eternity – that he saw in her eyes.

Tenderly, he brushed her hair back from her face, a sweet, wistful smile on his lips, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. T.J. reached up and captured it with her thumb, a look of wonder on her face.

“I love you, T.J.,” Tom whispered, and then he began to move in her, long slow thrusts at first, but as he pulsed inside her and she convulsed around him, the urgency returned, and his movements sped up as he lost control, thrusting harder and faster, grunting a little with the effort. T.J. felt the same urgency, and she lifted her hips to meet him, instinctively striving to get closer to him, trying to pull him in deeper.

Her moaning intensified as her arousal spiraled tighter and tighter, until finally it snapped, and she clamped around him, crying out his name as wave after wave of intense release rocked her. The feeling of her climaxing around him utterly wrecked him, and he groaned in completion as he buried himself as deeply as he could, his cock spasming in ecstasy, coming so hard that his vision dimmed, and he collapsed on top of her, nuzzling his face to hers.

“I love you,” he whispered “Please… don’t ever leave me again. I can’t bear it.”

T.J. cradled him to her, kissing his forehead and brow, rubbing her cheek again his. “I know,” she murmured. “Tom, I feel the same way. I need to be with you. I had to come home to you; I couldn’t stay away a minute longer. But don’t you ever, ever dare to kiss another woman like that ever again, or so help me, I don’t know what I’ll do…”

“Never,” Tom said, lifting his head and looking into her eyes. “Not ever again.”

Reluctantly he rolled off of her, pulling out slowly, removing the condom and carefully setting it on the floor, then settling comfortably, he pulled her back into his arms.

“How long before you can take a test?” he asked quietly, “so that we can know?”

“I suppose any time,” she said, biting her lip. “I almost wish…”

A sly, yet hopeful smile caused Tom’s lips to twitch. “Almost,” he agreed. “We’ll have to visit a chemists’ tomorrow, buy a test kit.”

“OK,” T.J. said dazedly.

“You’ve moving in with me,” Tom said flatly – a statement, not a question. “I need you with me. And you’ll marry me, as soon as it can be arranged, before I have to be gone for five months on my next big film project.”

“Tom,” T.J. started to protest, but Tom silenced her with his mouth, kissing her deeply until, helplessly, she kissed him back, her passion matching his.

When he finally lifted his lips, T.J. lay dazed for a moment, wide-eyed. “OK,” she said faintly, nodding mechanically.

Tom propped his head up on one elbow so that he could look into her face, and he played with her hair, a satisfied little half-smile curving his mouth. “And I’m pretty sure that you can arrange to take your classes on-line,” he said smugly. “I looked it up.” His face softened, and he looked at her pleadingly. “Because you have to come with me,” he said softly. “I won’t be separated from you for that long. I can’t.”

T.J. stroked his face soothingly. He sounded so desperate, and she felt compelled to reassure him. “I feel like you’re trying to bulldoze me,” she said, vaguely chastising. “But you sound so… I don’t know, so frightened and… helpless, I guess. So, OK. Tom, we can get married, and I’ll see what I can do about on-line learning. We can worry more about it when the time gets closer.”

Tom closed his eyes, sighing in relief, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pillowing his face on her breast. “Mine,” he murmured almost inaudibly, and T.J. smiled gently.

“Yours,” she whispered, agreeing with him. She put an arm around him, resting her hand on his head, weaving her fingers through his hair. “Mine,” she echoed.

He nuzzled his face closer to her. “Yes,” was all he said.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovejoy Fountain Park is a real place, and one of my favorites…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this ties up everything neatly. This has been one of my favorite stories… I’m sorry to see it end. I may end up writing one shots, just so I can revisit Tom and T.J again. Hope y’all enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

Epilogue

Tom and T.J. were married in a very small, private ceremony in Lovejoy Fountain Plaza, a public city park in downtown Portland. Only immediate family was present: T.J.’s mother, her sister as Matron of Honor, Tom’s mother and younger sister, and Luke as his Best Man. By some miracle, the entire affair was successfully kept out of the press, and the whole thing was announced very quietly after the fact.

The pregnancy test had been negative, and while both Tom and T.J. were relieved, they were also both a little sad. As they studied the little stick together, Tom wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her temple, a sharp spear of regret stabbing through his gut.

“Promise me that we can actually try within this first year, on purpose this time,” Tom murmured quietly in her ear. “You said it yourself, I’m getting up there! I want to raise my children myself, and I want to be young enough to be able to enjoy my grandchildren, and to have our children grown and out of the house before I’m too old to enjoy my middle-years with you!”

T.J. turned in his arms, lifting her mouth to his, kissing him sweetly at first, but, as usual, their kiss grew heated, and as she eventually pulled away, she looked up into his face, her fingertips smoothing over his forehead and down his cheek, lingering a little over his scruffy whiskers.

“Oh, Tom,” she exclaimed, her heart in her eyes, “I love you so! Yes, all right, we can try in a few months. Maybe during summer break at university.”

“How much longer do you actually have before you finish?” he asked ruefully. “I don’t know why I’ve never thought to ask you before.”

“Really, only three more terms,” she said. “And I suppose if the on-line thing works out, there wouldn’t be any reason why I couldn’t finish up whenever, even if we did have a…” T.J. paused, swallowing with a gulp, “…baby.”

“Oh, T.J., I love you!” Tom declared, kissing her once more, and proceeding to seduce her on the couch.

***

Things worked out wonderfully all around. T.J. finished all of the shoes in the bin, and by selling them off over the course of the next several years, a very great deal of money was raised, all of it going to various charitable organizations that benefitted children. She was able to finish her course of study online, between the births of their first child, a daughter they named Hannah, and their second, a son they named Seth. The birth of the twins, Adam and Amy, followed two years after Seth, and their joyful family was complete.

T.J. was hired as consulting engineer by a prestigious engineering firm, her school record and career activities so impressive that she was allowed huge lee-way with her hours and projects. She did a lot her work remotely, advancing her way up in the firm until she finally made partner. By the time she retired from active fieldwork, she was one of the majority owners, and eventually she was able to take their son Adam, who chose to pursue an engineering degree in her footsteps, into the firm, and to pass on her share.

She was almost always able to accompany Tom when he filmed on location. A funny little incident happened on the very first film project after their marriage. T.J. was on set, mingling among the press and some of the other spouses and on-lookers, and when Tom had a break, naturally he approached his wife. Bending to kiss her carefully, so as not to mess up his make-up, as he straightened, T.J.’s eyes were helplessly drawn to his shoes.

“Oh, Tom, those are beautiful,” she said, somewhere breathlessly. “But, my goodness, what have you done to them?” She stooped, kneeling beside him, pulling a small buffing brush out of her purse and working out the rather noticeable scuff that Tom had somehow managed to put on the right one. A couple of the other actors saw this, and assumed that she was one of the costume people. This amused T.J. no end, and she chose not to say anything, instead, just going with it, getting pleasure out of working with the variety of beautiful footwear. Eventually it reached the director’s ears, and T.J. was actually listed in the credits of the film, an accomplishment of which she was most proud. And it was actually during that film project that their firstborn, Hannah, was conceived.

Tom didn’t totally give up alcohol, but he did choose to give up all public drinking, confining himself to an occasional glass of wine with T.J. of an evening, a cold Guinness on a hot summer afternoon at home, or, very rarely, consuming something stronger when he and T.J. were in the mood to do so together. But he never again found himself in the same sort of situation that had very nearly cost him the love of his life.

It wouldn’t be true to say that he was never again tempted by another woman, because as his popularity increased, the opportunities to stray increased exponentially as well. There were many instances of fans throwing themselves at him, and even actresses and other celebrities trying to turn his head and jump on his bandwagon, but Tom never forgot that horrific night; the sound of T.J.’s drink hitting the floor, her dismayed cry, and the sight of her turning her back on him as she fled from him all those years ago. No woman, however attractive, was ever worth risking that pain again, and Tom remained stalwart, steady, and true to his T.J. His devotion to his family, his reputation for fidelity, grew to attain epic status, and he and T.J. became one of the iconic celebrity power couples, the ones that affirm one’s believe in lasting true love and happiness.

Tom eventually retired from acting, choosing to pursue projects behind the camera. He became a legendary director, sought for a variety of projects, known for his versatility and flexibility. T.J. continued to take care of his shoes throughout his career. The sight of her kneeling at his feet began to figure prominently in his fantasies, a fact that both amused and aroused T.J., and many a game was played between them, keeping their relationship fresh and exciting throughout all their years together.

Things weren’t always perfectly rosy, but it is safe to say that, they lived “happily ever after.”

The End


End file.
